Louis Macneice

(12 September 1907 – 3 September 1963 / Belfast)

Louis Macneice Poems

1. June Thunder 1/3/2003
2. Christina 1/3/2003
3. Carrickfergus 1/3/2003
4. The Brandy Glass 1/3/2003
5. Epilogue 1/3/2003
6. Bagpipe Music 1/3/2003
7. Sunday Morning 1/3/2003
8. Soap Suds 1/3/2003
9. Autobiography 1/3/2003
10. Wolves 8/12/2003
11. House On A Cliff 1/13/2003
12. The Sunlight On The Garden 1/3/2003
13. Star-Gazer 1/3/2003
14. The Suicide 1/3/2003
15. Snow 1/3/2003
16. Prayer Before Birth 1/3/2003

Comments about Louis Macneice

  • Peter McLaren (11/12/2017 5:25:00 AM)

    Although MacNeice is not usually thought of a 'great poet' he has more memorable lines than any other non great poet of the 20th century. He was a Irish song bird in the tradition of Thomas Moore; though cankered with all the angst of his age he tries to be as blithe as he can, for the music's sake. His felicity of phrase perfumes one's idle thoughts. One feels grateful to him.

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  • Marcus Smith Poetry Marcus Smith Poetry (7/29/2017 5:47:00 PM)

    McNeice is a tragic poet who, not believing enough in the ennoblement of tragedy, contents himself (and his readers) in ‘find[ing] pathos’ in soap suds or the broken hollow doll ‘dead on the nursery floor.’ He is a poet of beautiful sadness whose poems are shattered by intrusions of happiness.

Best Poem of Louis Macneice

Prayer Before Birth

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For ...

Read the full of Prayer Before Birth

Soap Suds

This brand of soap has the same smell as once in the big
House he visited when he was eight: the walls of the bathroom open
To reveal a lawn where a great yellow ball rolls back through a hoop
To rest at the head of a mallet held in the hands of a child.

And these were the joys of that house: a tower with a telescope;
Two great faded globes, one of the earth, one of the stars;
A stuffed black dog in the hall; a walled garden with bees;
A rabbit warren; a rockery; a vine under glass; th

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