Warm Are The Still And Lucky Miles by W. H. Auden

Warm are the still and lucky miles,

White shores of longing stretch away,

A light of recognition fills

The whole great day, and bright

The tiny world of lovers’ arms.

 

Silence invades the breathing wood

Where drowsy limbs a treasure keep,

Now greenly falls the learned shade

Across the sleeping brows

And stirs their secret to a smile.

 

Restored! Returned! The lost are borne

On seas of shipwreck home at last:

See! In a fire of praising burns

The dry dumb past, and we

Our life-day long shall part no more.

 

by W. H. Auden (October 1939)

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mrhearne

Poetry, theatre, literature, films, reviews and various other matters. Primarily Russian and Welsh subjects.

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