Tuesday, December 12, 2006

282. To Goethe: A Complaint - W. H. Auden

.
How wonderfully your songs begin
With praise of Nature and her beauty,
But then, as if it were a duty,
You drag some god-damned sweetheart in.
Did you imagine she'd be flattered?
They never sound as if they mattered.

No comments:

Post a Comment