Quotes From "Collected Poems" By W.h. Auden

He was my North, my South, my East and West,...
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He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. W.h. Auden
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I know I am but summer to your heart, And not the full four seasons of the year; And you must welcome from another part Such noble moods as are not mine, my dear. No gracious weight of golden fruits to sell Have I, nor any wise and wintry thing; And I have loved you all too long and well To carry still the high sweet breast of Spring.Wherefore I say: O love, as summer goes, I must be gone, steal forth with silent drums, That you may hail anew the bird and rose When I come back to you, as summer comes. Else will you seek, at some not distant time, Even your summer in another clime. Unknown
After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need...
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After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished? Unknown
I, while the gods laugh, the world's vortex am; Maelström...
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I, while the gods laugh, the world's vortex am; Maelström of passions in that hidden sea Whose waves of all-time lap the coasts of me; And in small compass the dark waters cram. Mervyn Peake
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I saw the spiders marching through the air, Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day In latter August when the hay Came creaking to the barn. But where The wind is westerly, Where gnarled November makes the spiders fly Into the apparitions of the sky, They purpose nothing but their ease and die Urgently beating east to sunrise and the sea; Robert Lowell
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These thoughts are depressing I know. They are depressing, I wish I was more cheerful, it is more pleasant, Also it is a duty, we should smile as well as submitting To the purpose of One Above who is experimenting With various mixtures of human character which goes best, All is interesting for him it is exciting, but not for us. There I go again. Smile, smile, and get some work to do Then you will be practically unconscious without positively having to go. . Stevie Smith
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God the EaterThere is a god in whom I do not believe Yet to this god my love stretches, This god whom I do not believe in is My whole life, my life and I am his. Everything that I have of pleasure and pain( Of pain, of bitter pain and men's contempt) I give this god for him to feed upon As he is my whole life and I am his. When I am dead I hope that he will eat Everything I have been and have not been And crunch and feed upon it and grow fat Eating my life all up as it is his. Stevie Smith
Happy the hare at morning, for she cannot read The...
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Happy the hare at morning, for she cannot read The hunter's waking thoughts. W.h. Auden
If seeing her an hour before her last Weak cough...
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If seeing her an hour before her last Weak cough into all blackness I could yet Be held by chalk-white walls Mervyn Peake
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Stranger, pause and look; From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I! Unknown
Uncontradicting solitude Supports me on its giant palm; And like...
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Uncontradicting solitude Supports me on its giant palm; And like a sea-anemone Or simple snail, there cautiously Unfolds, emerges, what I am. Philip Larkin
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Άλλα ζητεί η ψυχή σου, γι’ άλλα κλαίει· Constantinos P. Cavafis
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And all at once the heavy night Fell from my eyes and I could see, --A drenched and dripping apple-tree, A last long line of silver rain, A sky grown clear and blue again. And as I looked a quickening gust Of wind blew up to me and thrust Into my face a miracle Of orchard-breath, and with the smell, --I know not how such things can be! --I breathed my soul back into me. Ah! Up then from the ground sprang IAnd hailed the earth with such a cry As is not heard save from a man Who has been dead, and lives again. About the trees my arms I wound; Like one gone mad I hugged the ground; I raised my quivering arms on high; I laughed and laughed into the sky. Unknown
Go then, O my inseperable, this once more,
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Go then, O my inseperable, this once more, Donald Justice
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Base words are uttered only by the base And can for such at once be understood; But noble platitudes – ah, there's a case Where the most careful scrutiny is needed To tell a voice that's genuinely good From one that's base but merely has succeeded. W.h. Auden
To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoopin the...
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To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoopin the oats, to air in the lunglet evening come. Let it come, as it will, and don'tbe afraid. God does not leave uscomfortless, so let evening come. Jane Kenyon
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On No Work of WordsOn no work of words now for three lean months in the bloody Belly of the rich year and the big purse of my body I bitterly take to task my poverty and craft: To take to give is all, return what is hungrily given Puffing the pounds of manna up through the dew to heaven, The lovely gift of the gab bangs back on a blind shaft. To lift to leave from the treasures of man is pleasing death That will rake at last all currencies of the marked breath And count the taken, forsaken mysteries in a bad dark. To surrender now is to pay the expensive ogre twice. Ancient woods of my blood, dash down to the nut of the seas If I take to burn or return this world which is each man's work. . Dylan Thomas
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When this book is mould, And a book of many Waiting to be sold For a casual penny, In a little open case, In a street unclean and cluttered, Where a heavy mud is spattered From the passing drays, Stranger, pause and look; From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters, finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I! . Unknown
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If seeing her an hour before her last Weak cough into all blackness I could yet Be held by chalk-white Mervyn Peake
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When getting my nose in a book Cured most things short of school, It was worth ruining my eyes To know I could still keep cool, And deal out the old right hook To dirty dogs twice my size. Later, with inch-thick specs, Evil was just my lark: Me and my coat and fangs Had ripping times in the dark. The women I clubbed with sex! I broke them up like meringues. Don't read much now: the dude Who lets the girl down before The hero arrives, the chap Who's yellow and keeps the store Seem far too familiar. Get stewed: Books are a load of crap.( A Study Of Reading Habits) . Philip Larkin