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RCdeWinter: How about a little W. H. Auden?

Seekerofstars: "Defenseless under the night Our world in stupor lies; Yet, dotted everywhere, Ironic points of light Flash out wherever the Just Exchange their messages: May I, composed like them Of Eros & of dust... Show an affirming flame." -- W.H. Auden

misni_p: "Funeral Blues" by W. H. Auden⁣ ⁣ Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,⁣ Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,⁣ Silence the pianos and with muffled drum⁣ Bring out the coffin, let the mourners…

StStephenEC4N: Meanwhile, a silence on the cross, As dead as we shall ever be, Speaks of some total gain or loss, And you and I are free (From Friday's Child by W.H.Auden written in memory of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyred at Flossenbürg, April 9, 1945)

rbnpepper: At Last the Secret is Out, by W. H. Auden.

BelindaGreb: "Learn from your dreams what you lack." W. H. Auden Ghostly Beauty by Belinda Greb wild horses mustang Oregon

GJGreenlea: W.H Auden, from his poem, "September 1, 1939."

soyourelikethat: The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good. W H Auden

ArthurLWood: May these delights we dread to lose, This privacy, need no excuse But to that strength belong, As through a child’s rash happy cries The drowned parental voices rise In unlamenting song. W. H. Auden I see no better counter to the bleakness than to rise in unlamenting song.

jfkantrowitz: "Altogether elsewhere, vast Herds of reindeer move across Miles and miles of golden moss, Silently and very fast." ~W. H. Auden

jfletchermd: I know that the piece takes its title from a W.H. Auden poem - but this commemoration seems eerily appropriate today.

travelfarnow: Truth, like love and sleep, resents Approaches that are too intense. — W.H. Auden

parisreview: “I’m very fond of my food.” —W. H. Auden

yjerden: Today's poem is 'No, Plato, No' by W. H. Auden. And for once the scan isn't wonky.

CapShower: I believe it was W.H. Auden who said: “Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye”

ericrnolan1: “Good little sunbeams must learn to fly, “But it’s madly ungay when the goldfish die.” — Adrian and Francisco, from W.H. Auden’s “The Sea and the Mirror”

StevenFrattali: Day and Auden.

nicoscosc: "Not only would most genuine writers prefer to have no biography written; they would also prefer, were it practically feasible, that their writings were published anonymously." ― W. H. Auden (from his introduction to Shakespeare's sonnets)

gplewis: "Some think they're strong, some think they're smart, Like butterflies they're pulled apart, America can break your heart. You don’t know all, sir, you don’t know all." — W.H. Auden

tomdillane1: When you're reading an article about a great writer and think halfway through 'this journo is pretty good themselves' and then look to see that it's W.H. Auden...

milhistbuff3: Reminds me of W. H. Auden's famous line from Night Mail, "Who can bear to feel himself forgotten"

chanomkaimoong: - anna karenina - salomé - the plague - the sun also rises - the man and the sea - one hundred years of solitude - five days in paris - paradise lost - dan brown - the vegetarian - les misérables - mother - the outsider - lolita - w.h. auden

nathanheller: A really lovely Critics piece, by W. H. Auden.

dragsquire: The poem is The More Loving One abt W.H. Auden

woozie_m: I and the public know What all schoolchildren learn, Those to whom evil is done Do evil in return. - W.H.Auden, 1st September, 1939

poetrypotion: "A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language." —W. H. Auden

KitchensNicolas: "To choose what is difficult all ones days, as if it were easy, that is faith." W. H. Auden

MikesJokesEtc: We are here on earth to do good to others. What the others are here for, I don't know. -W H Auden

KateykooKate: Poem of the day: Today W.H. Auden speaks for this island. Or maybe just my island?

neurosocialself: Yet truth, like love and sleep, resents Approaches that are too intense. W H Auden • New Year Letter

Poem of the day

 by Sara Teasdale

I said, “My youth is gone
Like a fire beaten out by the rain,
That will never sway and sing
Or play with the wind again.”

I said, “It is no great sorrow
That quenched my youth in me,
But only little sorrows

Read complete poem

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