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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Lead Us 1968 painted wood Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Names of Barges - Names for Barges ca. 1968 color letterpress Victoria & Albert Museum, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Evening Will Come 1970 screenprint British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Homage to Modern Art 1972 screenprint British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Sailing Barge Redwing 1974 screenprint Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Arcadia (series, National Flags) 1974 offset-print (postcard) British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Cythera (series, National Flags) 1974 offset-print (postcard) British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Utopia (series, National Flags) 1975 offset-print (postcard) British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Valhalla (series, National Flags) 1975 offset-print (postcard) British Museum |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Apollo and Daphne after Bernini 1977 screenprint Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Someone Somewhere wants a Cable from You 1981-82 screenprint Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay The Birch Tree 1982 woodcut Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Gateway to a Grove (series, The Garden Proposals) 1985 lithograph Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Urn (Garden Poem) 1986 lithograph Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay Laconic: Homage to Neo-Classicism 1987 screenprint Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay After Bernini 1987 screenprint Tate Modern, London |
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| Ian Hamilton Finlay La Révolution devrait faire pour le peuple ce que le Cubisme a fait pour le couteau, la fourchette et la cuillère 1998 screenprint Tate Modern, London |
Angel
Above my desk, whirring and self-important
(Though not much larger than a hummingbird)
In finely woven robes, school of Van Eyck,
Hovers an evidently angelic visitor.
He points one index finger out the window
At winter snatching to its heart,
To crystal vacancy, the misty
Exhalations of houses and of people running home
From the cold sun pounding on the sea;
While with the other hand
He indicates the piano
Where the Sarabande No. 1 lies open
At a passage I shall never master
But which has already, and effortlessly, mastered me.
He drops his jaw as if to say, or sing,
"Between the world God made
And this music of Satie,
Each glimpsed through veils, but whole,
Radiant and willed,
Demanding praise, demanding surrender,
How can you sit there with your notebook?
What do you think you are doing?"
However he says nothing – wisely: I could mention
Flaws in God's world, or Satie's; and for that matter
How did he come by his taste for Satie?
Half to tease him, I turn back to my page,
Its phrases thus far clotted, unconnected.
The tiny angel shakes his head.
There is no smile on his round, hairless face.
He does not want even these few lines written.
– James Merrill (1962)