W.H. Auden
author profile
born
February 21, 1907
died
September 29, 1973
gender
male
place of birth
York, The United Kingdom
genre
Poetry
influences
Icelandic Sagas
about this author
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avg rating: 4.22
| 1,993 ratings
| 185 reviews
| 159 distinct works
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26 fans
More books by W.H. Auden…
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W.H. Auden: Selected Poems by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.23 — 408 ratings — published 1979 8 editions |
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Collected Poems: Auden by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.39 — 312 ratings — published 1976 8 editions |
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As I Walked Out One Evening: Songs, Ballads, Lullabies, Limericks, and Other Light Verse by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.36 — 77 ratings — published 1995 3 editions |
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Auden: Poems by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.25 — 75 ratings — published 1995 |
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The Dyer's Hand by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.36 — 61 ratings — published 1990 3 editions |
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Tell Me the Truth About Love by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.24 — 46 ratings — published 1994 5 editions |
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The Sea and the Mirror: A Commentary on Shakespeare's "The Tempest" by W.H. Auden avg rating 4.27 — 26 ratings — published 2003 2 editions |
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Lectures on Shakespeare by W.H. Auden, Arthur Kirsch avg rating 4.27 — 26 ratings — published 2001 2 editions |
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Letters from Iceland by W.H. Auden, Louis MacNeice avg rating 3.87 — 23 ratings — published 1969 4 editions |
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The Living Thoughts of Kierkegaard (New York Review Books Classics) by W.H. Auden avg rating 3.74 — 23 ratings — published 1999 |
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"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can; all of them make me laugh."
— W.H. Auden
— W.H. Auden
tags:
laughter
88 people liked it
"The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
— W.H. Auden (Selected Poems)
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
— W.H. Auden (Selected Poems)
tags:
poetry
62 people liked it
"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 for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
— W.H. Auden (Selected Poems)
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 for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good."
— W.H. Auden (Selected Poems)
