Saturday, 15 January 2011
Can't stop listening to this.
At the moment I'm learning part iv of Louis MacNeice's Autumn Journal. This is what I've got up to:
September has come, and I wake
And I think with joy how whatever, now or in future,
Nothing whatever can take
The people away, there will always be people
For friends or for lovers though perhaps
The conditions of love will be changed and its vices
And affection not lapse
To narrow possessiveness, jealousy founded on vanity.
September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place;
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy;
Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow,
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.
So I am glad
That life contains her with her moods and moments
More shifting and more transient than I had
Yet thought of as being integral to beauty; ...
I first came across this poem last term in a seminar and immediately asked for the whole collection for Christmas. It hasn't left my bag since I got it for a new year's present.
This is a horribly soppy post, isn't it?