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


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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