by W. H. (Wystan Hugh) Auden (1907 - 1973)

Rimbaud
Language: English 
The nights, the railway-arches, the bad sky,
His horrible companions did not know it;
But in that child the rhetorician's lie
Burst like a pipe: the cold had made a poet.

Drinks bought him by his weak and lyric friend
His senses systematically deranged,
To all accustomed nonsense put an end;
Till he from lyre and weakness was estranged.

Verse was a special illness of the ear;
Integrity was not enough; that seemed
The hell of childhood: he must try again.

Now, galloping through Africa, he dreamed
Of a new self, a son, the engineer,
His truth acceptable to lying men.

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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 14
Word count: 101