Author: Brian

  • Twelve Songs [Song V, March 1936]

    Twelve Songs [Song V, March 1936] by W. H. Auden Fish in the unruffled lakes Their swarming colours wear, Swans in the winter air A white perfection have, And the great lion walks Through his innocent grove; Lion, fish, and swan Act, and are gone Upon Time’s toppling wave. We, till shadowed days are done,…

  • The Course of a Particular

    The Course of a Particular by Wallace Stevens Today the leaves cry, hanging on branches swept by wind, Yet the nothingness of winter becomes a little less. It is still full of icy shades and shapen snow. The leaves cry . . . One holds off and merely hears the cry. It is a busy…

  • The Flight of Language

    The Flight of Language by W. S. Merwin Some of the leaves stay on all winter and spring comes without knowing whether there is suffering in them or ever was and what it is in the tongue they speak that cannot be remembered by listening for the whole time that they are on the tree…

  • The Stars at Tallapoosa

    The Stars at Tallapoosa by Wallace Stevens The lines are straight and swift between the stars. The night is not the cradle that they cry, The criers, undulating the deep-oceaned phrase. The lines are much too dark and much too sharp. The mind herein attains simplicity. There is no moon, on single, silvered leaf. The…

  • London Rain

    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…

  • Sad Strains of a Gay Waltz

    Sad Strains of a Gay Waltz by Wallace Stevens The truth is that there comes a time When we can mourn no more over music That is so much motionless sound. There comes a time when the waltz Is no longer a mode of desire, a mode Of revealing desire and is empty of shadows.…

  • Auden has an essay on Frost that I like.

    Auden has an essay on Frost that I like. Here’s how it ends: Hardy, Yeats, and Frost have all written epitaphs for themselves. Hardy I never cared for life, life cared for me. And hence I owe it some fidelity… Yeats Cast a cold eye On life and death. Horseman, pass by. Frost I would…

  • The Sunlight on the Garden

    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…

  • For Alan

    Permanently by Kenneth Koch One day the Nouns were clustered in the street. An Adjective walked by, with her dark beauty. The Nouns were struck, moved, changed. The next day a Verb drove up, and created the Sentence. Each Sentence says one thing— for example, “Although it was a dark rainy day when the Adjective…

  • Separation

    Separation by W. S. Merwin Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.