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.
by W. H. Auden
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2 comments:
"And when he cried the little children died in the streets."
Strong!
I think the poem dates back to the '30s or '40s and is in reference to men along the lines of Stalin, Mussolini and Hitler. I meant nothing else by it but maybe I should turn myself in to the DNC's apparatus working through the White House to purge any taint of disloyalty from our new, improved and Changed society.
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