Eclogue by a Five-barred Gate
Well,
I dreamt it was a hot day, the territorials Were out on melting asphalt under the howitzers,
The brass music bounced on the houses.
Come I heard cry as it were a water-nymph, come and fulfil me And I sped floating, my feet plashing in the tops of the wheat But my eyes were blind,
I found her with my hands lying on the drying hay,
Wet heat in the deeps of the hay, as my hand delved,
And I possessed her, gross and good like the hay,
And she went and my eyes regained sight and the sky was full of ladders Angels ascending and descending with a shine like mackerel--- Now I come to tell it it sounds nonsense.
Louis MacNeice
Другие работы автора
House On A Cliff
Indoors the tang of a tiny oil lamp The winking signal on the waste of sea Indoors the sound of the wind Outdoors the wind
The Sunlight on the Garden
The sunlight on the Hardens and grows cold, We cannot cage the Within its nets of gold;
Epilogue
Rows of books around me stand, Fence me in on either hand; Through that forest of dead wordsI would hunt the living birds -So I write these lines for Who have felt the death-wish too,
Autobiography
In my childhood trees were green And there was plenty to be seen Come back early or never come My father made the walls resound, He wore his collar the wrong way round