W.H. Auden
IT'S NO USE RAISING A SHOUT
It's no use raising a shout.
No, Honey, you can cut that right out.
I don't want any more hugs;
Make me some fresh tea, fetch me some rugs.
Here am I, here are you;
But what does it mean? What are we going to do?
It wasn't always like this?
Perhaps it wasn't, but it is.
Put the car away; when life fails,
What's the good of going to Wales?
Here am I, here are you;
But what does it mean? What are we going to do?
In my spine there was a base,
And I knew the general's face:
But they've served all the wires,
And I can't tell what the general desires.
Here am I, here are you;
But what does it mean? What are we going to do?
In my veins there is a wish,
And a memory of fish:
When I lie crying on the floor,
It says, 'You've often done this before,'
Here am I, here are you;
But what does it mean? What are we going to do?
A bird used to visit this shore:
It isn't going to come any more.
I've come a very long way to prove
No land, no water, and no love.
Here am I, here are you;
But what does it mean? What are we going to do?