Happy Birthday, W.H. Auden
The More Loving One
by W. H. Auden
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the leastWe have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burnWith a passion for us we could not return?If equal affection cannot be,Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I amOf stars that do not give a damn,I cannot, now I see them, sayI missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,I should learn to look at an empty skyAnd feel its total dark sublime,Though this might take me a little time.
posted by yelhsacrow at 12:55 PM
6 Comments:
Auden is a total nihilist, yo.
Yeah, he does seem to fear commitment...
i like this poem very much, it seems to be the companion to this one by Auden:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public
doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
it's heavily influenced by the style of the metaphysical poets i would say ...
Rides again!
Hi. How are you?
I'm fine, TMWCB! I was going to leave a comment to that effect on your new old blog, but you are too cool to allow comments, I see...
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