Night by Louise Bogan

I came across Louise Bogan’s Night in the pages of the Norton Anthology of Poetry, 4th edition.

Here it is on Poetry Foundation: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/29171/night-56d212c203805

I can’t really describe the feelings it creates in me. It is something about the mystery of life, out there, in the darkness; the solitude, away from humans, breathing, moving, renewing itself in the silence. I love the poem.

I’ve just realised as I type that the end reminds me of the end of Snow by Louis MacNeice, another favourite poem of mine, that is much more widely known (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/91395/snow-582b58513ffae).

The last two lines from Night:

“more things move
Than blood in the heart.”

And the last line from Snow:

“There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.”

Again, I don’t have the depth of knowledge or skill to pinpoint exactly what it is they are both talking about. It reads as something initially different, of course, but they are also pointing at the same thing: the same mystery, the same thing we all sense occasionally, but cannot put into words.

I actually don’t know any more of Louise Bogan’s poems, so that’s something I need to fix. I don’t know much about her at all.

I don’t necessarily want to share the poem here, without knowing about the permission needed, etc., so definitely follow the link above (which is not actually working at the time of writing) or search for it on the internet, and read it. Preferably on your own, late at night, with the night breeze blowing outside the window.