The More Loving One

From my earliest infatuation with poetry, the works of Wyston Hugh Auden have been my very favorite. While he was known for many great and artistic pieces of poetic literature, a select few of his poems have stood out to me immediately upon reading. I’ve said it before, if a piece of art makes me feel, makes me think, it will more than likely end up on my list of favorite things.

The poem The More Loving One is one of those works of art. It is a short, poignant poem about love or the lack of love returned, perhaps even an altogether indifferent response to a love declared. I won’t go into much more than that. But I will leave it here for you to enjoy.

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.