The Sunlight On The Garden

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 soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

by Louis Macneice

Other poems of MACNEICE (15)

Comments (8)

superbly-crafted art.
Word by word, phrase by phrase, emotion by emotion, the master poet takes us deeper into his world. Extraordinary use of poetic skills in such a building toward a climax way.
Deftly constructed rhyme which advances the power of the subject rather than distracting from it. A beautiful piece of writing.
When all is told! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
A great imagination put into the exact words it deserved. 10
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