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Showing posts from June 12, 2005

Yet More W.H.Auden

Three Short Poems : 'The underground roads Are, as the dead prefer them, Always tortuous.' 'When he looked the cave in the eye, Hercules Had a moment of doubt.' 'Leaning out over The dreadful precipice, One contemptuous tree.'

W.H. Auden Again

Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love W.H. Auden Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm; Time and fevers burn away Individual beauty from Thoughtful children, and the grave Proves the child ephermeral: But in my arms till break of day Let the living creature lie, Mortal, guilty, but to me The entirely beautiful. Soul and body have no bounds: To lovers as they lie upon Her tolerant enchanted slope In their ordinary swoon, Grave the vision Venus sends Of supernatural sympathy, Universal love and hope; While an abstract insight wakes Among the glaciers and the rocks The hermit's sensual ecstasy. Certainty, fidelity On the stroke of midnight pass Like vibrations of a bell, And fashionable madmen raise Their pedantic boring cry: Every farthing of the cost, All the dreadful cards foretell, Shall be paid, but not from this night Not a whisper, not a thought, Not a kiss nor look be lost. Beauty, midnight, vision dies: Let the winds of dawn