POETRY WEDNESDAY: VAUDEVILLE SHALL PREACH: Auden, of course. Who could resist in this, our hour of need? (I have nothing to declare but my obsession.) First a small sharp cutting from “The More Loving One“:

Were all stars to disappear or die,

I should learn to look at an empty sky

And feel its total dark sublime,

Though this might take me a little time.

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Much more to follow. I have the final symptom of English-major damage: Seeing the dedication “To Cyril Connolly” makes me cry. Am I wrong in thinking someone said that obsession is the wellspring of genius and madness?

Also, if I ever have children they will memorize this. Um… and I will memorize it too, if strictly necessary. And if my children inherit an interest in the law (or lawfulness, with which I’ve rarely concerned myself) I think this might not come amiss.

Ah, shh, are you crying again? I suppose someone is always listening.