Poetry

From W.H. Auden’s The Age Of Anxiety

Yet the noble despair of the poets Is nothing of the sort; it is silly […]

David Zahl / 12.8.09

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Yet the noble despair of the poets
Is nothing of the sort; it is silly
To refuse the tasks of time
And, overlooking our lives,
Cry – “Miserable wicked me,
How interesting I am.”
We would rather be ruined than changed,
We would rather die in dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.

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COMMENTS

4 responses to “From W.H. Auden’s The Age Of Anxiety”

1. paul says:

   12/08/2009 at 11:39 am

   What a Wonderful quotation… dear nephew.

   Reply
2. R-J Heijmen says:

   12/09/2009 at 12:10 pm

   whoa

   Reply
3. surf says:

   12/10/2009 at 1:09 am

   unbelievable last four lines. thank you. -ross

   Reply
4. Mike says:

   01/13/2024 at 10:55 am

   This quote helped me get through a time of alcoholism and I have held it dear to me for over 24 years

   Reply