Rejoice, the bells
Cry to me, Blake’s Old Nobodaddy
In his astronomic telescopic heaven,
the Big White Christian upstairs is dead,
and won’t come hazing us no more, nor bless our bombs.
--WH Auden, from "Whitsunday at Kirchstetten"
O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress;
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.
--WH Auden, 1937