W.H. Auden : Dance of Death
It's farewell to the drawing room's civilised cry,
The professor' sensible where-to and why,
The frock-coated diplomat's social aplomb,
Now matters are settled with gas and bomb.
The works for two pianos, the brilliant stories
Of reasonable giants and remarkable fairies,
The pictures, the ointments, the frangible wares,
And the branches of olive are stored upstairs.
For the Devil has broken parole and arisen,
He has dynamited his way out of prison;
Out of the well where his Papa throws
The rebel ange, the outcast rose.
The behaving of man is a world of horror,
A sedent'ry Sodom and slick Gomorrah,
I must take charge of the liquid fire,
And storm the cities of human desire.
Charge fire - storm desire.
For it's order and trumpet. And anger. And drum!
And power and glory command you to come.
Come. Come. Come.
The fishes are silent deep in the sea.
The skies are lit up like a Christmas tree,
The star in the west shoots its warning cry
"Mankind is alive but mankind must die".
So good-bye to the house with its wallpaper red,
Good-bye to the sheets on the warm double bed,
Good-bye to the beautiful birds on the wall,
It's good-bye, dear heart, good-bye to you all.