Friday, October 9, 2009

Love

I have found a new love.

This new found love is not a she
For she is a he
But neither a he
For he is dead.

Must thank A-Levels for this meeting. People , I would like to introduce y'all to W.H Auden.

It's late and I would like for his poetry to speak for itself, and it's late, so I leave you with

Funeral Blues by W. H 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 crepe 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 forever: 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 woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

PS: If there are any references to any individual's life, it is not intentional.
PPS: It's just due to the fact Auden is awesome.

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