From: hjkhjkhd@hhhh.com   
      
   Makes the points...   
      
      
   TON UP FOR WYSTAN!   
      
   He buggered off in the dead of winter   
   The Nazis were in Poland, Czechs had been smothered   
   Not quite the time for a poetic gesture   
   The country was at war; no one much bothered   
   Even the most fervent well-wisher would   
   Wonder why he'd flown the coop with Isherwood   
      
   Far from his agreeable boat-trip   
   The armies ran over the Maginot Line   
   The smoke rose, and the burned bodies were raked into particles   
   But his sojourn in the Big Apple was marked   
   By a number of magazine articles   
      
   Now he's in every broadsheet in the country   
   And all that equivocal stuff about Spain is 'the conscience of a nation' --   
   Rather than the usual cry of self-preservation   
   The thoughst of a dead man, turned all transcendent   
   Make a nice 1500 words in the Independent   
   'We must love each other and die'   
   Sounds good, Uncle Wiz. Let's give it a try.   
      
   Guild of poets, stifle sniggers   
   Wystan Auden's reached three figures   
   Let the English vessel lie   
   Safe beneath the Manhattan sky   
      
   On the far side of the Atlantic   
   Let the poet's muse stay antic   
   Never mind absconding sods   
   Keep the free man from false Gods...   
      
   (that's enough Auden, Ed.)   
      
   c/o   
   ROBBIE   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)