Old Age
A POEM
Accept the wind —
Insanity would fight it now.
It is no angel to be wrestled with.
Accept the wind —
Exalting in the ripping off of color
from the trees.
It deals in stripping and revealing
nakedness.
Accept the wind —
The time has come for seeing
Trunk, and limb, and twig.
Accept it with great joy
Knowing that God appointed sap
To rise again.
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Beatitude in Blue
Enveil God’s face, winged seraphim
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…
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Evidently a man of coarse, even slovenly, personal habits, Auden was as meticulous as T.S. Eliot in the precision of his verse.