Wystan Hugh Auden

(1907 - 1973 / York / England)

Wystan Hugh Auden Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. Grub First, Then Ethics 12/16/2014
2. On The Circuit 1/1/2004
3. The Novelist 1/1/2004
4. Partition 1/1/2004
5. In Memory Of Sigmund Freud 1/1/2004
6. The Geography Of The House 1/1/2004
7. Miranda 1/1/2004
8. Old People's Home 1/1/2004
9. The Riddle 1/1/2004
10. Let History Be My Judge 1/1/2004
11. Law, Like Love 1/1/2004
12. Nocturne 1/1/2004
13. The Labyrinth 1/1/2004
14. Under Which Lyre 1/1/2004
15. Voltaire At Ferney 1/1/2004
16. The Hidden Law 1/1/2004
17. Petition 1/1/2004
18. Villanelle 1/1/2004
19. In The Time Of War, Xii 1/1/2004
20. The Quest 1/1/2004
21. Stop All The Clocks, Cut Off The Telephone 9/29/2014
22. The Shield Of Achilles 1/1/2004
23. One Evening 1/1/2004
24. Song Of The Master And Boatswain 1/1/2004
25. In Praise Of Limestone 1/1/2004
26. Three Short Poems 1/1/2004
27. We'Re Late 1/1/2004
28. The Two 1/1/2004
29. They Wondered Why The Fruit Had Been Forbidden 1/1/2004
30. Lady 1/1/2004
31. Victor 1/1/2004
32. This Lunar Beauty 1/1/2004
33. O Where Are You Going? 1/1/2004
34. Roman Wall Blues 1/1/2004
35. Who's Who 1/1/2004
36. Lullaby 1/1/2004
37. Refugee Blues 1/1/2004
38. Law Like Love 1/1/2004
39. The More Loving One 1/1/2004
40. August 1968 1/1/2004
Best Poem of Wystan Hugh Auden

Funeral Blues

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 come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

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. ...

Read the full of Funeral Blues

The Quest

I. The Door

Out of it steps our future, through this door
Enigmas, executioners and rules,
Her Majesty in a bad temper or
A red-nosed Fool who makes a fool of fools.

Great persons eye it in the twilight for
A past it might so carelessly let in,

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