Ascension Day 1964

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This poem by W. H. Auden originally appeared in the August 1964 edition of The London Magazine, alongside short fiction by Graham Greene.

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From leaf to leaf in silence
The year’s new green
Is passed along northward:

A bit, though, behind schedule,
For the chestnut chandeliers
Are still dim.

But today’s atmosphere
Is encouraging,
And the orchard peoples,

Naïve in white
Or truculent in pink,
Aspect an indulgent blue.

Pleased with his one good remark,
A cuckoo repeats it;
Well-satisfied,

Some occasional heavy feeder
Obliges
With a florid song.

Lives content
with their ecological niche
And relevant objects,

Unable to tell
A hush before storms
From one after massacres,

As warriors, as lovers,
Without mixed feelings:
What is our feast to them?

This Thursday when we must
Go through the ritual
Formulæ of farewell,

The words, the looks,
The embraces, knowing
That this time they are final.

Will as we may to believe
That parting should be,
And that a promise

Of future joy can be kept,
Absence remains
The factual loss it is:

Here on out as permanent,
Obvious to all
As the presence in each

Of a glum Kundry,
Impelled to giggle
At any crucifixion.

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W. H. Auden was a British poet. In 1948, he won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry with The Age of Anxiety.

Sketch by Dan Sperrin, featured on The London Magazine tote bag.

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