Sunday, February 24, 2008

Sunday Poetry: W. H. Auden

Epitaph On A Tyrant


Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.


W.H. Auden

2 Comments:

Blogger Hecate said...

You always post such great poems. They should carve that on W's gravestone.

3:43 PM  
Blogger shrimplate said...

I was thinking that they should carve it on his forehead. But that would be mean.

It is a great poem. The tone of it is so right.

Thank you.

9:42 PM  

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