Friday Night Poetry

W.H. Auden wrote the following poem in 1939.


Epitaph on a Tyrant


Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.


—W. H. Auden