To save your world you asked this man to die; would this man, could he see you now, ask why?
W. H. AudenA verbal art like poetry is reflective; it stops to think. Music is immediate, it goes on to become.
W. H. AudenAs I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down by the brimming river I heard a lover sing Under an arch of the railway: 'Love has no ending. 'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet, And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street, 'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dry And the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky.
W. H. Auden