Selected Poems of W. H. Auden
WH Auden
A placid poet
My title, “a placid poet,” is not 100% accurate. It is true that W.H. Auden sings less of beauty and love and rage and terror than some other poets. It is not that he never sings of these things, but he does so only occasionally. Even when he does, he does it thoughtfully. For that reason, I think some lovers of poetry might enjoy Auden less than other poets whose focus is on the passions.
Selected Poems of W. H. Auden includes 120 poetic works by Auden. In fact, it includes rather more than 120 poems. Some of the writings I sneakily referred to as “poetic works” are collections of poems. For instance #102, “Thanksgiving for a Habitat” consists of 12 poems, some several pages long, about the rooms of a house.
For me, the essence of the poetic experience is the “Yes, THAT!” moment, when I read something and feel that it expresses a mental state perfectly. I am myself usually a fairly placid person. (At the age of 70, that is -- I have not always been so.) Thus Auden works for me.
Recently I have had another reason for reading poetry. I began writing fiction in 2025, and most of my stories are inspired by poems. In this regard my reading of Auden has already borne fruit. These lines from Domesday Song
Crimson in the setting sun; In the valley of the fox Gleams the barrel of a gun.
...have already engendered a story that I feel pretty good about. Also, these from “Thanksgiving for a Habitat. V Up There”
All it knows of a changing world it has to Guess from children, who conjure in its plenum, Now an eyrie for two excited sisters, Where, when Mother is bad, her rage can’t reach them, Now a schooner on which a lonely only Boy sails north or approaches coral islands.
...have given me a novella (two chapters written so far).
There is material here to inspire more stories, I am sure.