I had the greatest lexicographic moment of my life when I looked up the word ‘cromlech’ after reading this poem. The Cromlech by Louis MacNeice From trivia of froth and pollen White tufts in the rabbit warren And every minute like a thicket Nicked and dropped, nicked and dropped, Extracters and abstracters ask What emerges,…

Snow by Louis MacNeice The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was Spawning snow and pink roses against it Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: World is suddener than we fancy it. World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and…

I am a huge fan of MacNeice now. Read this poem out loud. He is a poet who has such a mastery over sounds that I often care very little about his themes – though they are nothing to sneeze at, either. (It is almost embarrasing to love a poem so much that has “sunshine”…

London Rain by Louis MacNeice The rain of London pimples The ebony street with white And the neon lamps of London Stain the canals of night And the park becomes a jungle In the alchemy of night. My wishes turn to violent Horses black as coal— The randy mares of fancy, The stallions of the…

The Sunlight on the Garden by Louis MacNeice The sunlight on the garden Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the minute Within its nets of gold; When all is told We cannot beg for pardon. Our freedom as free lances Advances towards its end; The earth compels, upon it Sonnets and birds descend; And…