by W. H. Auden, English Poet (1907-1973)
Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Epitaph on a Tyrant
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