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“Lady, weeping at the crossroads …” by W. H. Auden 🇬🇧🇺🇸 (21 Feb 1907 – 29 Sep 1973)
Lady, weeping at the crossroads,
Would you meet your love
In the twilight with his greyhounds,
And the hawk on his glove?
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Bribe the birds then on the branches,
Bribe them to be dumb,
Stare the hot sun out of heaven
That the night may come.
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Starless are the nights of travel,
Bleak the winter wind;
Run with terror all before you
And regret behind.
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Run until you hear the ocean’s
Everlasting cry;
Deep though it may be and bitter
You must drink it dry,
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Wear out patience in the lowest
Dungeons of the sea,
Searching through the stranded shipwrecks
For the golden key,
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Push on to the world’s end, pay the
Dread guard with a kiss,
Cross the rotten bridge that totters
Over the abyss.
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There stands the deserted castle
Ready to explore;
Enter, climb the marble staircase,
Open the locked door.
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Cross the silent ballroom,
Doubt and danger past;
Blow the cobwebs from the mirror
See yourself at last.
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Put your hand behind the wainscot,
You have done your part;
Find the penknife there and plunge it
Into your false heart.