top of page

As I Walked Out One Evening

WH Auden


As I walked out one evening,   

Walking down Bristol Street,

The crowds upon the pavement   

Were fields of harvest wheat.


And down by the brimming river   

I heard a lover sing

Under an arch of the railway:   

'Love has no ending.


'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you  

 Till China and Africa meet,

And the river jumps over the mountain   

And the salmon sing in the street,


'I'll love you till the ocean   

Is folded and hung up to dry

And the seven stars go squawking   

Like geese about the sky.


'The years shall run like rabbits,   

For in my arms I hold

The Flower of the Ages,   

And the first love of the world.'


But all the clocks in the city   

Began to whirr and chime:'

O let not Time deceive you,   

You cannot conquer Time.


'In the burrows of the Nightmare   

Where Justice naked is,

Time watches from the shadow   

And coughs when you would kiss.


'In headaches and in worry   

Vaguely life leaks away,

And Time will have his fancy   

To-morrow or to-day.


'Into many a green valley   

Drifts the appalling snow;

Time breaks the threaded dances   

And the diver's brilliant bow.


'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.


'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes   

And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,

And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,   

And Jill goes down on her back.


'O look, look in the mirror,   

O look in your distress:

Life remains a blessing   

Although you cannot bless.


'O stand, stand at the window   

As the tears scald and start;

You shall love your crooked neighbour   

With your crooked heart.'


It was late, late in the evening,   

The lovers they were gone;

The clocks had ceased their chiming,   

And the deep river ran on.

Recent Posts

See All

For The Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of...

Comments


Want to tell me something?  Email me!

Thanks for submitting!

© 2020 by Alistotle

bottom of page