Comments on: W. H. Auden - remembered at second hand http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/06/07/w-h-auden-remembered-at-second-hand/ Life, people, and Kultur Fri, 21 Nov 2008 18:51:09 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6.3 By: Jerry Pounds http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/06/07/w-h-auden-remembered-at-second-hand/#comment-23 Jerry Pounds Thu, 07 Jun 2007 21:29:02 +0000 http://www.paul-moor.com/2007/06/07/w-h-auden-remembered-at-second-hand/#comment-23 I love the lines, "love like matter-is much odder than we thought." Love comes up quite a bit in poetry, and I am envious of anyone who can relate to the poets sentiments. I am firmly entrenched in a muddle about love. I remember lust; I remember the chemical frenzy of infatuation. I understand dependence, familiarity, and partnership. I can relate to gratitude, trust and respect. Maybe these facets of a complex emotion varyingly correspond to the poets intention--driven off the language. Dylan Thomas in his poem, "In My Craft or Sullen Art" makes a statement about love that reflects its ambiguity--even from one whose poetry reflects a reverence for life and his love of it. In my craft my sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing lights, Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart. Nor for the proud man apart From the raging moon I write On these spendthrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise of wages Nor heed my craft or art. I love the lines, “love like matter-is much odder than we thought.” Love comes up quite a bit in poetry, and I am envious of anyone who can relate to the poets sentiments.
I am firmly entrenched in a muddle about love. I remember lust; I remember the chemical frenzy of infatuation. I understand dependence, familiarity, and partnership. I can relate to gratitude, trust and respect.
Maybe these facets of a complex emotion varyingly correspond to the poets intention–driven off the language.
Dylan Thomas in his poem, “In My Craft or Sullen Art” makes a statement about love that reflects its ambiguity–even from one whose poetry reflects a reverence for life and his love of it.

In my craft my sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing lights,
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Nor for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spendthrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise of wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

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