As I Walked Out One Evening

  • W.H. Auden (1907-1973)


    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.


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