W. H. Auden: "Their Lonely Betters"

THEIR LONELY BETTERS

As I listened from a beach-chair in the shade
To all the noises that my garden made,
It seemed to me only proper that words
Should be withheld from vegetables and birds.

A robin with no Christian name ran through
The Robin-Anthem which was all it knew,
And rustling flowers for some third party waited
To say which pairs, if any, should get mated.

No one of them was capable of lying,
There was not one which knew that it was dying
Or could have with a rhythm or a rhyme
Assumed responsibility for time.

Let them leave language to their lonely betters
Who count some days and long for certain letters;
We, too, make noises when we laugh or weep:
Words are for those with promises to keep.

-- W. H. Auden --
from Art and Nature: An Illustrated Anthology of Nature Poetry


And miles to go before we sleep.
And miles to go before we sleep.


Does being able to create poetry make up for this loneliness?  

A Minute Meditation

In the arts, one must distinguish, of course, between the lie and the tall story that the audience is not expected to believe.  The tall-story teller gives himself away, either by a wink or by an exaggerated poker face: the born liar always looks absolutely natural.

-- W. H. Auden --
from his Introduction to The Complete Poems of Cavafy

Born liars look like they are telling the truth and that they actually believe what they are saying, even to the point that contradictory lies never bother them.  They just blame the ones who expose their contradictory tales.