Guest poem submitted by Anustup Datta:
(Poem #1403) As the poets have mournfully sung As the poets have mournfully sung, Death takes the innocent young, The rolling-in-money, The screamingly-funny, And those who are very well hung. |
Haven't contributed something for ages, so thought I would. Came across this oft-quoted gem while re-reading Auden, and it seemed to resonate with my current cheerful frame of mind, so here it is. Don't think we have run it on the group before. As Thomas has pointed out before, Auden has a curious knack of being just right at times - of finding just the right word or phrase that illuminates the idea blindingly. Sometimes, this gives his work a rather trite feel, like someone who uses his power with the language to play around with superficial concepts. More often, though, one is simply awed by the craftsmanship of a truly instinctive poet. Here, for instance, he uses the somewhat farcical tone of a limerick to explore the human condition and the death penalty that we are born with. The 'mournful' poets mentioned in the first line number many - but the lines it reminds me most of belong to the Rubaiyat - The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it. -- Omar Khayyam tr. Edward FitzGerald Minstrels Poem #545 The same essential idea, differently and delightfully expressed. Anustup. [Minstrels Links] W. H. Auden: Poem #50, In Memory of W. B. Yeats Poem #68, Musee des Beaux Arts Poem #256, Funeral Blues Poem #307, Lay your sleeping head, my love Poem #371, O What Is That Sound Poem #386, The Unknown Citizen Poem #427, The Two Poem #491, Roman Wall Blues Poem #494, The Fall of Rome Poem #618, The More Loving One Poem #677, Villanelle Poem #708, Five Songs - II Poem #728, from The Dog Beneath the Skin Poem #762, Miranda Poem #868, Partition Poem #889, September 1, 1939 Poem #895, August 1968 Poem #913, In Time of War, XII Poem #1038, Epitaph on a Tyrant Poem #1082, Under Which Lyre Poem #1281, Night Mail Poem #1298, Miss Gee There is a detailed biography of Auden attached to Poem #50 above. Omar Khayyam: Poem #162, Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night Poem #342, Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise Poem #545, The Moving Finger Writes; and, Having Writ Poem #654, Think, in this Batter'd Caravanserai Poem #750, Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough Poem #1354, Ah, Love!, Could Thou and I with Fate Conspire And finally: Poem #587, Strugnell's Rubaiyat -- Wendy Cope
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