September 1st, 1939. W.H. Auden. Read by Dylan Thomas.

One of the greatest poems of all time, read by one of the greats, Dylan Thomas. September 01, 1939 casts a light onto our collective insantity that parades as normality. Auden saw it then and this September 01, 2024, we can feel it now. Same same. Was Heraclitus right about crossing those rivers? Or does history not repeat but rhymes? Enjoy and make the connections with our wars today and so many frustrated and with heads in the sands of time. #warpoetry
See the blog post - open.substack....
Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973) was a British-American poet known for his innovative and intellectual poetry, which often explored themes of love, politics, religion, and the human condition. Born in York, England, Auden grew up in a family with strong intellectual and artistic influences.
Auden's early works were marked by a deep engagement with social and political issues, influenced by the rise of totalitarianism in Europe. He moved to the United States in 1939, where he became a U.S. citizen in 1946. Auden is remembered as one of the most significant poets of the 20th century, known for his formal mastery, intellectual rigor, and moral concerns.
Summary of "September 1, 1939
"September 1, 1939" is one of W.H. Auden's most famous poems, written on the eve of World War II. The poem reflects the anxiety and uncertainty of the time, capturing the collective dread that accompanied the outbreak of the war. The poem begins with the speaker sitting in a dive bar in New York City, meditating on the day's events and the broader historical forces that have led to this moment.
The poem examines the failures of political systems, the rise of fascism, and the human capacity for cruelty. Auden critiques both the complacency of the masses and the moral failures of leaders who have allowed such a catastrophe to unfold. Despite its bleak tone, the poem also contains a call for individual responsibility and a reaffirmation of the need for love and human connection in the face of despair.
Significantly, "September 1, 1939" has been widely regarded as a powerful commentary on the human condition during times of crisis. The poem's most famous line, "We must love one another or die," encapsulates its central theme.
I sit in one of the dives
On Fifty-second Street
Uncertain and afraid
As the clever hopes expire
Of a low dishonest decade:
Waves of anger and fear
Circulate over the bright
And darkened lands of the earth,
Obsessing our private lives;
The unmentionable odour of death
Offends the September night.
Accurate scholarship can
Unearth the whole offence
From Luther until now
That has driven a culture mad,
Find what occurred at Linz,
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god:
I and the public know
What all schoolchildren learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.
Exiled Thucydides knew
All that a speech can say
About Democracy,
And what dictators do,
The elderly rubbish they talk
To an apathetic grave;
Analysed all in his book,
The enlightenment driven away,
The habit-forming pain,
Mismanagement and grief:
We must suffer them all again.
Into this neutral air
Where blind skyscrapers use
Their full height to proclaim
The strength of Collective Man,
Each language pours its vain
Competitive excuse:
But who can live for long
In an euphoric dream;
Out of the mirror they stare,
Imperialism's face
And the international wrong.
Faces along the bar
Cling to their average day:
The lights must never go out,
The music must always play,
All the conventions conspire
To make this fort assume
The furniture of home;
Lest we should see where we are,
Lost in a haunted wood,
Children afraid of the night
Who have never been happy or good.
The windiest militant trash
Important Persons shout
Is not so crude as our wish:
What mad Nijinsky wrote
About Diaghilev
Is true of the normal heart;
For the error bred in the bone
Of each woman and each man
Craves what it cannot have,
Not universal love
But to be loved alone.
From the conservative dark
Into the ethical life
The dense commuters come,
Repeating their morning vow;
"I will be true to the wife,
I'll concentrate more on my work,"
And helpless governors wake
To resume their compulsory game:
Who can release them now,
Who can reach the deaf,
Who can speak for the dumb?
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.