This is the last in my series of poems by Louis MacNeice. I hope you have enjoyed them.
Tomorrow I am moving on to a new topic and, for about three weeks, I shall be presenting the work of eight poets who are connected by something they had in common.
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 try to 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 elses arms
We should not fear the spears of the spring nor the citys
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 or 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 brute reality there is no
Road that is right entirely.
Louis MacNeice
jollyweez
So very true.
Takes a liftetime to realize the 'hang of it.'
Worship a person. Live with them and oft the spell is broken.
We live and love, nevertheless, and play those love songs each and every day.
Colour our world, please.
I remember when the world was dark and grey. It was in England, just after the war. No coloured clothes. No coloured shoes. No sunshine but plenty of grey. Skies, clothes, faces, streets, cars, and souls.
Tint our world, for life is better and easier that way.