I do love me some W.H. Auden

I've been enjoying the opportunity to explore more of Auden's poetry.  Today: "September 1, 1939," "In Memory of Sigmund Freud," and "In Memory of W.B. Yeats."  These are three very specific, very personal poems.  While I enjoyed them all, the first really hit home.  It is Auden's reaction to the news that Germany has invaded Poland.  Auden chooses not to attack Hitler and the Nazis specifically.  Instead he addresses the false and common belief that the masses must follow authority - that the Fuhrer, or the President, or the Prime Minister knows best and will protect us.  Auden acknowledges that each individual ultimately only acts in his or her own best interest and warns that without love we will perish (an idea that he later recanted, cutting the poem from future printings).  Of course we won't die, we'll just live a bit more miserably than we would without love.  But, as I posted on our class discussion board, without respect, we will die.  If I cannot respect those with whom I disagree, how can I expect them to respect me?  And more importantly, how can we then coexist peacefully?  I wonder where wars come from, huh?

Love, War, Alienation, and Inanity

Today I read "Lullaby" (not "A Lullaby" - took me a few to figure out I'd read the wrong poem) and "Refugee Blues" by W.H. Auden and "Not Waving But Drowning"" and "Pretty" by Stevie Smith.  I loved them all.  (I did enjoy "A Lullaby" as well, but it was a bit difficult to answer questions about romantic love based on this poem.)  It's funny.  We started out with T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land."  Eliot seems to have crammed every bleak, confusing, contradictory thing about life into that poem.  Now, we're looking at several of these issues individually.  Life in modern society can be overwhelming.  We can't fix everything.  Personally, I've tried to stake out one or two little corners where I might be able to make a small difference.  I did enjoy each of these poems, as I have enjoyed everything I've read so far.  I just find it depressing sometimes, focusing on problems for which I suspect no solution will be forthcoming in my lifetime.

Back to Eliot

So, today I read a few more T.S. Eliot poems, only one of which, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," I had read before. The other two, "The Hollow Men" and "Ash Wednesday," were new to me therefore more fresh and interesting. The biggest surprise of the three was "Ash Wednesday." After the despair of "The Waste Land" and "The Hollow Men" and the melancholy resignation of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” I found “Ash Wednesday” refreshing, if a bit heavy on the religion for my taste. I suppose I’m just happy that Eliot found something to believe in, something to relieve the hopelessness and despair he experienced just from his view of everyday life. Yes, war influenced the dire vignettes of “The Waste Land,” but the mundane contributed its fair share as well. I don't agree with Eliot's conception of humanity's need for intercession, for salvation. But I can't fault him for the beauty and peace of the language and images in "Ash Wednesday":
"I pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss"
"Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness."

"And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance."

"The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair"

Really, 'nuff said. I doubt that I can hope to write anything so beautiful.