O plunge your hands in water, Plunge them in up to the wrist; Stare, stare in the basin,
And wonder what you’ve missed. The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.
A strange poem. Thank you for sharing it. I guess that even in our most mundane moments we see something beyond the here and now. If only we could always be contented.
The Nightmail is one of my favourite poems and I often recite it when I am standing in Norwich station talking to myself. Very Auden to always find the right way to say something simple.
A strange poem. Thank you for sharing it. I guess that even in our most mundane moments we see something beyond the here and now. If only we could always be contented.
ReplyDeleteIt is a strange poem, but it seemed fitting for the end of a strange, sad week.
DeleteI love Auden.
ReplyDeleteThe Nightmail is one of my favourite poems and I often recite it when I am standing in Norwich station talking to myself.
ReplyDeleteVery Auden to always find the right way to say something simple.