Edwin Muir Poems
|1.||They Could Not Tell Me Who Should Be My Lord||4/1/2010|
|2.||Reading In Wartime||4/1/2010|
|5.||The Angel And The Girl||4/1/2010|
|6.||Robert The Bruce (To Douglas In Dying)||4/1/2010|
|12.||The Incarnate One||1/3/2003|
|15.||Circle And Square||1/3/2003|
|16.||In Love For Long||1/3/2003|
|17.||The Child Dying||1/3/2003|
|18.||The Good Man In Hell||1/3/2003|
Comments about Edwin Muir
Barely a twelvemonth after
The seven days war that put the world to sleep,
Late in the evening the strange horses came.
By then we had made our covenant with silence,
But in the first few days it was so still
We listened to our breathing and were afraid.
On the second day
The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer.
On the third day a warship passed us, heading north,
Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day
A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter
Nothing. The radios dumb;
And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,
And stand, ...
All through that summer at ease we lay,
And daily from the turret wall
We watched the mowers in the hay
And the enemy half a mile away
They seemed no threat to us at all.
For what, we thought, had we to fear
With our arms and provender, load on load,
Our towering battlements, tier on tier,