Tuesday, 17 February 2009




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


,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 come any good

English poet and critic.To the young intellectuals of the left
he was the great voice of the 30s: political,radical and uncomfortable.,his homosexuality was behind several personal refrences, appearing repeatedly in his poetry. As T.S.Eliot published the firsth collection of auden,poems 1930 he was immediately recognized as the spokesman of his generation

Erika Mann,arranged a marriage of convenience with W. H. Auden, in order to stay in England


Sepiru Chris said...

This is such a beautiful tribute to love.

marc aurel said...

My school had a literary society. One week our guest was Gregory Corso, an American beat poet. He said that his best friend was the waste paper basket, meaning that he revised much of his work. A little later the guest was this short man in a very rumpled suit. I had no idea who Auden was. In the question period I asked if his best friend was the waste paper basket. In my innocence I assumed that all poets were in a kind of mutual admiration society, where everyone knew what all the others were thinking. Auden was highly offended, thinking, no doubt, that this young twerp was saying that he ought to throw away all his work. I was priviledged to have sat at his feet.