/lit/ - Literature

Good evening friends, scholars, countrymen. It's Pop-pop here to read you a poem before bed. It’s Tuesday in mid December with a big Nor'easter in the works forecast for this week. Looks like he's send us a great blanket to tuck us in. Here’s a poem for you by Frederick Louis MacNeice , he was a member of the Auden Group y'know!

Snow - Frederick Louis MacNeice

The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

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.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes—
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands—
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

Good night friends, and sleep well.