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.
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Comments
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An interesting analysis of this poem's structure (and some of MacNeice's other poetry can be found here:
http://www.cprw.com/Drexel/macneice.htm
And rufina caraid's comment does indeed add new insight into this poem. -
MacNeice wrote it for his wife who had recently left him taking their son -- to marry another man.
This information puts whole new meanings to the words don't you think?
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