Doggerel by a Senior Citizen by W.H. Auden

Doggerel by a Senior Citizen

(for Robert Lederer)

by W.H. Auden

Our earth in 1969

Is not the planet I call mine,

The world, I mean, that gives me strength

To hold off chaos at arm's length.

My Eden landscapes and their climes

Are constructs from Edwardian times,

When bath-rooms took up lots of space,

And, before eating, one said Grace.

The automobile, the aeroplane,

Are useful gadgets, but profane:

The enginry of which I dream

Is moved by water or by steam.

Reason requires that I approve

The light-bulb which I cannot love:

To me more reverence-commanding

A fish-tail burner on the landing.

My family ghosts I fought and routed,

Their values, though, I never doubted:

I thought the Protestant Work-Ethic

Both practical and sympathetic.

When couples played or sang duets,

It was immoral to have debts:

I shall continue till I die

To pay in cash for what I buy.

The Book of Common Prayer we knew

Was that of 1662:

Though with-it sermons may be well,

Liturgical reforms are hell.

Sex was of course -- it always is --

The most enticing of mysteries,

But news-stands did not then supply

Manichean pornography.

Then Speech was mannerly, an Art,

Like learning not to belch or fart:

I cannot settle which is worse,

The Anti-Novel or Free Verse.

Nor are those Ph.D's my kith,

Who dig the symbol and the myth:

I count myself a man of letters

Who writes, or hopes to, for his betters.

Dare any call Permissiveness

An educational success?

Saner those class-rooms which I sat in,

Compelled to study Greek and Latin.

Though I suspect the term is crap,

There is a Generation Gap,

Who is to blame? Those, old or young,

Who will not learn their Mother-Tongue.

But Love, at least, is not a state

Either en vogue or out-of-date,

And I've true friends, I will allow,

To talk and eat with here and now.

Me alienated? Bosh! It's just

As a sworn citizen who must

Skirmish with it that I feel

Most at home with what is Real.