we felt words from Auden would do Well today.
Grateful, I slept till a morning that would not say
How much it believed of what I said the storm had said
But quietly drew my attention to what had been done
—So many cubic metres the more in my cistern
Against a leonine summer—, putting first things first:
Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.
Woken, I lay in the arms of my own warmth and listened
To a storm enjoying its storminess in the winter dark
Till my ear, as it can when half-asleep or half-sober,
Set to work to unscramble that interjectory uproar,
Construing its airy vowels and watery consonants
Into a love-speech indicative of a Proper Name.
It was late, late in the evening, The lovers they were gone; The clocks had ceased their chiming, And the deep river ran on.
Beauty, midnight, vision dies: Let the winds of dawn that blow Softly round your dreaming head Such a day of welcome show Eye and knocking heart may bless, Find the mortal world enough; Noons of dryness find you fed By the involuntary powers, Nights of insult let you pass Watched by every human love.
We must love one another or die.
have you ever heard Mr. Auden speak? it’s glorious.
SUCH an Imperious and Perceptive and sly voice……the way he says “sacred” (say-crud.) and “beautiful” (be-yo-ti-ful – lyrical and slipping over the Vowels elegantly and trippingly).
what news from Your part of the world, darlings?