Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice, a remarkable novella of a poem published in 1939. A tribute to a time, fast disappearing, just before Europe burst into flames. It is poignant, it is provocative, it is prophetic and it is achingly beautiful. The following excerpt is one of my favourite pieces of writing. If you are unfamiliar with the piece, I urge you to find a copy and set aside some time to enjoy it to the full. I expect you won't be disappointed.
September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy.
Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.”
― Louis MacNeice, Autumn Journal