The more loving one
Looking
up at the stars, I know quite well
That,
for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on
earth indifference is the least
We have
to dread from man or beast.
How
should we like it were stars to burn
With a
passion for us we could not return?
If equal
affection cannot be,
Let the
more loving one be me.
Admirer
as I think I am
Of stars
that do not give a damn,
I
cannot, now I see them, say
I missed
one terribly all day.
Were all
stars to disappear or die,
I should
learn to look at an empty sky
And feel
its total dark sublime,
Though
this might take me a little time.
-- W H
Auden
