September Song

Poem By Geoffrey Hill

born 19.6.32 - deported 24.9.42

Undesirable you may have been, untouchable
you were not. Not forgotten
or passed over at the proper time.

As estimated, you died. Things marched,
sufficient, to that end.
Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented
terror, so many routine cries.

(I have made
an elegy for myself it
is true)

September fattens on vines. Roses
flake from the wall. The smoke
of harmless fires drifts to my eyes.

This is plenty. This is more than enough.

Comments about September Song

Perhaps an alternative title could be “A Death Camp Commander Remembers”. The poem can be read as the recollection of a who escaped post war justice having brutalised a child and sent his victim to die in a gas chamber along with thousands of others. He is smug because he got away with it. There are many such people who quietly gloat over evading retribution for their evil deeds.
Perhaps an alternative title could be “A Death Camp Commander Remembers”. The poem can be read as the recollections of a who escaped post war justice and who, in the autumn of his life, recalls how he brutalised a child and then sent his victim to die in a gas chamber along with thousands of others. He is smug because he got away with it. There are many such people who quietly gloat on evading retribution for their evil deeds.
Geoffrey Hill is the most interesting English poet we have. You can enjoy re-reading his work more than any other simply because it is so layered. Please submit more


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Other poems of HILL

In Memory Of Jane Fraser

When snow like sheep lay in the fold
And wind went begging at each door,
And the far hills were blue with cold,
And a cloud shroud lay on the moor,

Requiem For The Plantagenet Kings

For whom the possessed sea littered, on both shores,
Ruinous arms; being fired, and for good,
To sound the constitution of just wards,
Men, in their eloquent fashion, understood.

In Piam Memoriam

Created purely from glass the saint stands,
Exposing his gifted quite empty hands
Like a conjurer about to begin,
A righteous man begging of righteous men.

Picture Of A Nativity

Sea-preserved, heaped with sea-spoils,
Ribs, keels, coral sores,
Detached faces, ephemeral oils,
Discharged on the world’s outer shores,

Respublica

The strident high
civic trumpeting
of misrule. It is
what we stand for.