...was a complicated man, and a great poet. Born into an Anglo-Irish family, he evaded the trap of falling into categories and simply stuck to his aim of writing "honest" poetry from his own point of view. I first encountered him through his poem "Dublin", which is especially interesting as it views the city as a contradiction, a thing apart from itself.
I would argue that MacNeice himself might have felt the same way, as he made his way from Belfast, to Carrickfergus, and then to England and beyond.
His range, technical and aesthetic, led to success in his own lifetime. I love him partly because I can relate to him as a person, but perhaps most for these lines from his poem "Snow". Read the whole thing to decide for yourself what he's on about.
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.
Isn't there just, Louis?