Tag Archives: Poetry

By WH Auden This lunar beautyHas no historyIs complete and early;If beauty laterBear any featureIt had a loverAnd is another. This like a dreamKeeps other timeAnd daytime isThe loss of this;For time is inchesAnd the heart’s changesWhere ghost has hauntedLost and wanted. But this was neverA ghost’s endeavourNor finished this,Was ghost at ease;And till itContinue reading “Poem XVII”