Still posting Louis Macneice poems. Two more, and then I shall move on to Millay. I remember that this is the poem that introduced me to Macneice in the first place. The characteristic compelling rhythms and ease of the lines made his poems catch my mind, then, and still. The sentiment is nearly Sunlight in the Garden though not quite as sinister.



Entirely

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;
All we know is the splash of words in passing
And falling twigs of song,
And when we eavesdrop on the great
Presences it is rarely
That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate
Even a phrase entirely

If we could find our happiness entirely
In somebody else's arms
We should not fear the spears of spring nor the city's
Yammering fire alarms
But, as it is, the spears each year go through
Our flesh and almost hourly
Bell or siren banishes the blue
Eyes of love entirely.

And if the world were black and white entirely
And all the charts were plain
Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,
A prism of delight and pain,
We might be surer where we wished to go
Or again we might be merely
Bored but in the brute reality there is no
Road that is right entirely.

Louis Macneice