"O who can ever gaze his fill,"
Farmer and fisherman say,
"On native shore and local hill,
Grudge aching limb or callus on the hand?
Fathers, grandfathers stood upon this land,
And here the pilgrims from our loins shall stand."
So farmer and fisherman say
In their fortunate heyday:
But Death's soft answer drifts across
Empty catch or harvest loss
Or an unlucky May.
The earth is an oyster with nothing inside it
Not to be born is the best for man
The end of toil is a baliff's order
Throw down the mattock and dance while you can.
"O life's too short for friends who share,"
Travellers think in their hearts,
"The city's common bed, the air,
The mountain bivouac and the bathing beach,
Where incidents draw every day from each
Memorable gesture and witty speech."
So travellers think in their hearts,
Till malice or circumstance parts
Them from their constant humor:
And slyly Death's coercive rumour
In the silence starts:
A friend is the old tale of Narcissus
Not to be born is the best for man
An active partner in something disgraceful
Change your partner, dance while you can.
"O stretch your hands across the sea,"
The impassioned lover cries,
"Stretch them toward your harm and me,
Our grass is green, and sensual our brief bed,
The stream sings at its foot, and at its head
The mild and vegetarian beasts are fed."
So the impassioned lover cries
Till is storm of pleasure dies:
From the bedpost and the rocks
Death's enticing echo mocks,
And his voice replies:
The greater the love, the more false to its object
Not to be born is the best for man
After the kiss comes the impulse to throttle
Break the embraces, dance while you can.
"I see the guilty world forgiven,"
Dreamer and drunkard sing,
"The ladders let down out of heaven:
The laurel springing from the martyr's blood:
The children skipping where the weepers stood:
The lovers natural, and beasts all good."
So dreamer and drunkard sing
Till day their sobriety bring:
Parrotwise with death's reply
From whelping fear and nesting lie,
Woods and their echoes ring:
The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews
Not to be born is the best for man
The second best is a formal order
The dance's pattern, dance while you can.
Dance, dance, for the figure is easy
The tune is catching and will not stop
Dance till the stars come down with the rafters
Dance, dance, dance till you drop.
--W.H. Auden
There are many things in this world I do not completely understand. At the top of the list is Social Security and poetry. I like poetry, however, and it irks me that I cannot decipher it.
I enjoy reading poetry. I thoroughly enjoy Robert Frost. The images his poetry invokes are remarkable. His simplicity and beauty are entirely refreshing. I recently bought a book of poems by W.H. Auden. I wanted to read him because the literary critic (wacko) Harold Bloom said Auden was Kierkegaard's twentieth century disciple. Kierkegaard is my literary hero. Thus, I have been reading through the book, and I do not understand any of it. I read about 20 poems before I came across one that held any resonance with me. This is highly frustrating. I want to be able to pull meaning from poetry, whether it is the meaning the author originally intended or not.
I read the preceding poem today, and it resonated with me. I am not sure what it is about. It seems to be very cynical, but then, Auden may just be being ironic. I do not know what he means by "dance." I had hoped that by typing it out and commenting on it, I would be inspired, but so far I have not. I suppose I will just have to take it for whatever I can, which is an ambiguously aethsetically pleasing literary work.
Hello. Kierkegaard's one of my favourite theologians, and Auden is one of the poets I've studied and read most. I'd like, if I may, to make a few comments and suggestions about the latter's writing that you might find useful starting points for some of your own thought about him.
ReplyDeleteThe first, and central, is that Auden really is as cynical as he seems. He's touching, he's technically brilliant, but as far as I can make out he is wildly disillusioned with love and most else in the world. I would point particularly to "As I walked out one evening" for an example of this.
Even in "This Lunar Beauty" (poem 13 or 14, I think, in the common modern collection of WHA's work), which seems largely worshipful, concludes on a sorrowful note.
The pattern I frequently detect in his work (and in both of the two poems I have adduced here) is one of hope or beauty becoming sorrow or distress, and I would suggest that that is what we have in your posted poem. In each verse someone is joyous or loving or hopeful in green times, only for their joy or love or hope to stagger and fall under the influence of hardship and reality.
Then comes the (to me authorial) comment from Death, describing the emptiness of whatever it is that the previous figures have invested with meaning. In each case Death suggests that, given this emptiness, the only sensible option is to "dance while you can", which to me would seem to mean we should forget our pretensions to significant experiences and, as these are as fleeting as anything else, and have what little frivolous fun we can. A pretty sad view, and not one I would necessarily ascribe to Auden, but nonetheless what I think to be the implication of this poem.
I don't claim any authority on Auden, and these views are only views rather than critically orthodox axioms, but I hope they may nonetheless be of some use to you. I'd be happy to engage in further discussion if you're interested.
I hope you enjoy your further reading of Auden, and wish you well.
Auden was gay and living in Victorian England very conservative!! I think this explains a lot of the bitterness in his poems and the cynical humor.
ReplyDeleteO stretch your hands across the sea,"
The impassioned lover cries,
"Stretch them toward your harm and me,
Our grass is green, and sensual our brief bed,
and
same verse
The greater the love, the more false to its object
Not to be born is the best for man
After the kiss comes the impulse to throttle
Break the embraces, dance while you can.
I think he is saying very basically since we are all doomed the pain of living makes it better to have never to have been born but we are so you might as well dance. then again no expert on Auden either!!