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Christopher Murray Grieve (11 August 1892 – 9 September 1978), best known by his pen name Hugh MacDiarmid (/məkˈdɜːrmɪd/ mək-DUR-mid; Scots: [ˈhju məkˈdjɑrmɪd]), was a Scottish poet, journalist, essayist and political figure. He is considered one of the principal forces behind the Scottish Renaissance and has had a lasting impact on Scottish culture and politics. He was a founding member of the National Party of Scotland in 1928 but left in 1933 due to his Marxist–Leninist views. He joined the Communist Party of Great Britain the following year only to be expelled in 1938 for his nationalist sympathies. He subsequently stood as a parliamentary candidate for both the Scottish National Party (1945) and Communist Party of Great Britain (1964). Grieve's earliest work, including Annals of the Five Senses, was written in English, but he is best known for his use of "synthetic Scots", a literary version of the Scots language that he himself developed. From the early 1930s onwards MacDiarmid made greater use of English, sometimes a "synthetic English" that was supplemented by scientific and technical vocabularies. The son of a postman, MacDiarmid was born in the Scottish border town of Langholm, Dumfriesshire. He was educated at Langholm Academy before becoming a teacher for a brief time at Broughton Higher Grade School in Edinburgh. He began his writing career as a journalist in Wales, contributing to the socialist newspaper The Merthyr Pioneer run by Labour party founder Keir Hardie before joining the Royal Army Medical Corps at the outbreak of the First World War. He served in Salonica, Greece and France before developing cerebral malaria and subsequently returning to Scotland in 1918. MacDiarmid's time in the army was influential in his political and artistic development.
And until that day comes every true man's place/ is to reject all else and be with the lowest,/ the poorest - in the bottom of that deepest of wells/ in which alone is truth; in which is truth only - truth that should shine like the sun,/ with a monopoly of movement, and a sound like talking to God.
We are so easily baffled by appearances And do not realize that these stones are one with the stars.
It requires great love of it deeply to read The configuration of a land, Gradually grow conscious of fine shadings, Of great meanings in slight symbols, Hear at last the great voice that speaks softly, See the swell and fall upon the flank Of a statue carved out in a whole country’s marble, Be like Spring, like a hand in a window Moving New and Old things carefully to and fro, Moving a fraction of flower here, Placing an inch of air there, And without breaking anything. So I have gathered unto myself All the loose ends of Scotland, And by naming them and accepting them, Loving them and identifying myself with them, Attempt to express the whole.