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|
|13.||In Love For Long||1/3/2003|
|17.||The Child Dying||1/3/2003|
|18.||Circle And Square||1/3/2003|
|19.||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, ...
It was not meant for human eyes,
That combat on the shabby patch
Of clods and trampled turf that lies
Somewhere beneath the sodden skies
For eye of toad or adder to catch.
And having seen it I accuse
The crested animal in his pride,
Arrayed in all the royal hues