"O tell me the truth about love"
On Saint Valentine's Day, one's thoughts turn to the erotic ... or W.H. Auden. Well, he was born on 21 February, so that puts him in the right month, anyway. Here's the final verse of his poem that seeks to answer our eternal longing:
O tell me the truth about loveWhen it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.Wystan Hugh Auden (1907 - 1973)
Love? Given that it's impossible to define and absurd to even try, Auden was right to take the surreal approach: "Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is / Or soft as eiderdown fluff? / Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges? / O tell me the truth about love."
