Blowhard, Esq. writes:
Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I’ve lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.
The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I’m a Wall soldier, I don’t know why.
The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl’s in Tungria; I sleep alone.
Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don’t like his manners, I don’t like his face.Piso’s a Christian, he worships a fish;
There’d be no kissing if he had his wish.She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.When I’m a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.
Blowhard, Esq.
Callowman
Sherbrooke
Eddie Pensier
Enzo Nakamura
Epaminondas
Fabrizio del Wrongo
Fenster
Brundle Guy
Glynn Marshes
Paleo Retiree
Atypical Neurotic
Question Lady
Sax von Stroheim
Sir Barken Hyena
The Mistaken
Uncouth Reflections 
When he’s on, Auden is tremendous. There is just such a mountain of his work to slog through. Two of my favorite bits because they are so apt to these sad days:
“Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you’ll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.”
“Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;
They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
There weren’t the human race, my dear, they weren’t the human race.”
Both from “Ten Songs.”
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Here’s a poem by the man who the wall is named after…Hadrian.
Frail little, fond little waif of a soul,
Comrade and guest of this body of clay,
Whither away now, O whither away –
Naked and stark and so woefully wan,
Yesterday’s whimsies all over and done.
Poor little droll.
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