Louis MacNeice





Louis MacNeice

Author profile


born
September 12, 1907 in Belfast, Northern Ireland, The United Kingdom

died
September 03, 1963

genre


About this author

Born to Irish parents in Belfast, MacNeice was largely educated in British prep schools. He attended Oxford University, there befriending W.H. Auden.

He was part of the generation of "thirties poets" which included W. H. Auden, Stephen Spender and Cecil Day-Lewis; nicknamed "MacSpaunday" as a group — a name invented by Roy Campbell, in his Talking Bronco (1946). His body of work was widely appreciated by the public during his lifetime, due in part to his relaxed, but socially and emotionally aware style. Never as overtly (or simplistically) political as some of his contemporaries, his work shows a humane opposition to totalitarianism as well as an acute awareness of his Irish roots.


Average rating: 4.08 · 1,326 ratings · 143 reviews · 27 distinct works
Autumn Journal
4.45 of 5 stars 4.45 avg rating — 42 ratings — published 1998 — 3 editions
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Letters From Iceland
3.83 of 5 stars 3.83 avg rating — 47 ratings — published 1937 — 6 editions
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Collected Poems of Louis Ma...
4.4 of 5 stars 4.40 avg rating — 48 ratings — published 1949 — 4 editions
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Selected Poems
3.97 of 5 stars 3.97 avg rating — 31 ratings — published 1990 — 8 editions
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The Strings Are False
4.5 of 5 stars 4.50 avg rating — 12 ratings — published 1965 — 2 editions
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The Dark Tower
4.67 of 5 stars 4.67 avg rating — 6 ratings2 editions
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The Poetry of W. B. Yeats
3.83 of 5 stars 3.83 avg rating — 6 ratings3 editions
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The Agamemnon Of Aeschylus
4.0 of 5 stars 4.00 avg rating — 3 ratings
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Astrology
3.33 of 5 stars 3.33 avg rating — 3 ratings3 editions
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Selected Plays of Louis Mac...
4.5 of 5 stars 4.50 avg rating — 2 ratings — published 1993
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More books by Louis MacNeice…
“World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.”
Louis MacNeice

“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.”
Louis MacNeice, Collected Poems 1925-1948

“None of our hearts are pure, we always have mixed motives.
Are self deceivers, but the worst of all
Deceits is to murmur 'Lord, I am not worthy'
And, lying easy, turn your face to the wall. ”
Louis MacNeice, Autumn Journal