SpokenVerse | Sunlight on the Garden by Louis MacNeice (read by Tom O'Bedlam) @SpokenVerse | Uploaded November 2014 | Updated October 2024, 1 hour ago.
Louis MacNeice was a northern Irish poet, a friend of WH Auden. He used a quotation from this poem "The Earth Compels" as the title of a poetry collection published in 1938. There are two readings here - the first I made today, the second I made three years ago, I just found it in my files.
He was about 28 when he wrote this poem. It is about mortality and the inevitable fate that awaits us all, which appears to be a topic that seems to bother intellectuals more than it bothers the rest of us: Shakespeare was obsessed with it. The poem is said to be addressed to his ex-wife, Mary Ezra, after their divorce, expressing his acceptance and gratitude for what their marriage had been. There's more here about the unusual rhyme scheme and the meaning:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sunlight_on_the_Garden
"I am dying, Egypt, dying.
Give me some wine and let me speak a little."
Ant says this to Cleo in Antony and Cleopatra.
Context nfs.sparknotes.com/antony-and-cleopatra/page_302.html
Rhotic speakers such as Scots and Northern Irish pronounce the 'r' in iron. Here it has to rhyme with 'siren' and I think there's an intentional allusion to 'irony'. Here's a discussion about David Cameron, the UK's Prime Minister, talking about a 'cast iron promise', pronouncing the 'r':
phonetic-blog.blogspot.co.uk/2009/11/iron-or.html
The paintings are by Anthony Yates RBA RBSA. I found them because one of them is actually called "Sunlight on the Garden". They appear to depict a marriage which is the theme of the poem. They are available here at The Fosse Gallery:
fossegallery.com/artistsdetails.php?name=Anthony+Yates
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 was a northern Irish poet, a friend of WH Auden. He used a quotation from this poem "The Earth Compels" as the title of a poetry collection published in 1938. There are two readings here - the first I made today, the second I made three years ago, I just found it in my files.
He was about 28 when he wrote this poem. It is about mortality and the inevitable fate that awaits us all, which appears to be a topic that seems to bother intellectuals more than it bothers the rest of us: Shakespeare was obsessed with it. The poem is said to be addressed to his ex-wife, Mary Ezra, after their divorce, expressing his acceptance and gratitude for what their marriage had been. There's more here about the unusual rhyme scheme and the meaning:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sunlight_on_the_Garden
"I am dying, Egypt, dying.
Give me some wine and let me speak a little."
Ant says this to Cleo in Antony and Cleopatra.
Context nfs.sparknotes.com/antony-and-cleopatra/page_302.html
Rhotic speakers such as Scots and Northern Irish pronounce the 'r' in iron. Here it has to rhyme with 'siren' and I think there's an intentional allusion to 'irony'. Here's a discussion about David Cameron, the UK's Prime Minister, talking about a 'cast iron promise', pronouncing the 'r':
phonetic-blog.blogspot.co.uk/2009/11/iron-or.html
The paintings are by Anthony Yates RBA RBSA. I found them because one of them is actually called "Sunlight on the Garden". They appear to depict a marriage which is the theme of the poem. They are available here at The Fosse Gallery:
fossegallery.com/artistsdetails.php?name=Anthony+Yates
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.
