Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
From Homage to Clio by W. H. Auden, published by Random House. Copyright © 1960 W. H. Auden, renewed by the Estate of W. H. Auden. Used by permission of Curtis Brown, Ltd.
I met and then forgot her
With unremembered things,
And thought if love could utter
Once more its murmurings,
Another one and not her
Could pluck the muted strings.
The years had passed long after
That sweet romance and free––
Kind years that seemed to waft her
From painful memory,
For she brought tears and laughter
And sorrow, too, for me.
I thought the pain and yearning
Had gone away from mind,
And cold the bosom burning
With passion unresigned,
Till I saw her returning
With Love and Spring behind.
From Manila: A Collection of Verse (Imp. Paredes, Inc., 1926) by Luis Dato. This poem is in the public domain.