A Permanent Way


In honor of the birthday of W.H. Auden

A Permanent Way
W.H. Auden

Self-drivers may curse their luck,
Stuck on new-fangled trails,
But the good old train will jog
To the dogma of its rails,

And steam so straight ahead
That I cannot be led astray
By tempting scenes which occur
Along my permanent way.

Intriguing dales escape
Into hills of the shape I like,
Though, were I actually put
Where a foot-path leaves the pike

For some romantic spot,
I should ask what chance there is
Of a least a ten-dollar cheque
Or a family peck of a kiss:

But, forcibly held to my tracks,
I can safely relax and dream
Of a love and a livelihood
To fit that wood or stream;

And what could be greater fun,
Once one has chosen and paid,
Than the inexpensive delight
Of a choice one might have made?

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Ron Moffat published on February 21, 2007 3:20 PM.

What Does It All Mean? was the previous entry in this blog.

In Honor of the Birthday of Edna St. Vincent Milay is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.