THE MORE LOVING ONE

Image result for wh auden

When he was doing something he was thinking about something else.

If you are not paying attention, you’ll get run over by a car

And no philosophy will save you.

Pity yourself. This is what you are,

A scrap which the cook at supper gave you,

The cook, the God of somebody else.

Conqueror or poet, you live in a limited box,

No better than Louisa, the typist,

In her room; no better than Jonathan who fixes the locks.

Auden, the lazy, was finally the best,

Too lazy to be a genius through and through.

He would wake, smoke, write a poem, rest;

It’s quiet. Don’t disturb him. I’m warning you.

 

2 Comments

  1. Desdi said,

    April 10, 2019 at 12:27 pm

    • thomasbrady said,

      April 11, 2019 at 2:10 pm

      One of my favorite poems. I made a film of it in film class, but the tape was misplaced and lost. One of my saddest losses.


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