W.H. Auden's poem "Atlantis" is a complex and thought-provoking piece that explores the idea of a utopian society and the dangers of idealizing such a place. The poem is written in the form of a conversation between two characters, the first of whom is a person who longs for the mythical island of Atlantis and the second of whom is a more skeptical and pragmatic voice.
The first character begins the poem by describing the allure of Atlantis, painting a picture of a perfect society where "all men were free and equal" and there was no suffering or conflict. This character is deeply drawn to the idea of Atlantis and seems to view it as a sort of paradise on earth.
However, the second character is quick to point out the flaws in this idealized vision of Atlantis. They argue that the utopian society described by the first character is not only impossible, but also potentially dangerous. This character argues that the pursuit of a perfect society can lead to totalitarianism and the suppression of individuality.
As the poem progresses, the two characters engage in a back and forth dialogue, with the first character continuing to idealize Atlantis and the second character offering counterarguments and cautioning against the dangers of such a utopian society.
Ultimately, "Atlantis" serves as a cautionary tale about the dangers of idealizing and pursuing a perfect society. While the idea of a utopian world may be appealing, the poem suggests that such a place is ultimately unattainable and that the pursuit of it can lead to dangerous consequences.
Overall, "Atlantis" is a thought-provoking and insightful poem that encourages readers to consider the potential pitfalls of idealizing and striving for a perfect society. It serves as a reminder that while we may dream of a better world, we must be careful not to lose sight of the complexities and realities of human nature in the process.
All the little household gods Have started crying, but say Good-bye now, and put to sea. Should storms, as may well happen, Drive you to anchor a week In some old harbour-city Of Ionia, then speak With her witty scholars, men Who have proved there cannot be Such a place as Atlantis: Learn their logic, but notice How its subtlety betrays Their enormous simple grief; Thus they shall teach you the ways To doubt that you may believe. Being set on the idea Of getting to Atlantis, You have discovered of course Only the Ship of Fools is Making the voyage this year, As gales of abnormal force Are predicted, and that you Must therefore be ready to Behave absurdly enough To pass for one of The Boys, At least appearing to love Hard liquor, horseplay and noise. All the little household gods Have started crying, but say Good-bye now, and put to sea. Being set on the idea Of getting to Atlantis, You have discovered of course Only the Ship of Fools is Making the voyage this year, As gales of abnormal force Are predicted, and that you Must therefore be ready to Behave absurdly enough To pass for one of The Boys, At least appearing to love Hard liquor, horseplay and noise. Farewell, my dear, farewell: may Hermes, master of the roads, And the four dwarf Kabiri, Protect and serve you always; And may the Ancient of Days Provide for all you must do His invisible guidance, Lifting up, dear, upon you The light of His countenance. Auden echoes Just four months earlier T.
Assuming you beach at last Near Atlantis, and begin That terrible trek inland Through squalid woods and frozen Thundras where all are soon lost; If, forsaken then, you stand, Dismissal everywhere, Stone and now, silence and air, O remember the great dead And honour the fate you are, Travelling and tormented, Dialectic and bizarre. If anything, Auden's remaining traces were on the street, where a plaque on the building brought admirers of him and his microbes, conflicted as they were, to the sidewalk outside from all over the world. Assuming you beach at last Near Atlantis, and begin That terrible trek inland Through squalid woods and frozen Thundras where all are soon lost; If, forsaken then, you stand, Dismissal everywhere, Stone and now, silence and air, O remember the great dead And honour the fate you are, Travelling and tormented, Dialectic and bizarre. Stagger onward rejoicing; And even then if, perhaps Having actually got To the last col, you collapse With all Atlantis shining Below you yet you cannot Descend, you should still be proud Even to have been allowed Just to peep at Atlantis In a poetic vision: Give thanks and lie down in peace, Having seen your salvation. Should storms, as may well happen, Drive you to anchor a week In some old harbour-city Of Ionia, then speak With her witty sholars, men Who have proved there cannot be Such a place as Atlantis: Learn their logic, but notice How its subtlety betrays Their enormous simple grief; Thus they shall teach you the ways To doubt that you may believe.
That Time W.H. Auden Wrote a Letter to the Microbes on His Skin
Assuming you beach at last Near Atlantis, and begin That terrible trek inland Through squalid woods and frozen Thundras where all are soon lost; If, forsaken then, you stand, Dismissal everywhere, Stone and now, silence and air, O remember the great dead And honour the fate you are, Travelling and tormented, Dialectic and bizarre. So you got that going for you. If, later, you run aground Among the headlands of Thrace, Where with torches all night long A naked barbaric race Leaps frenziedly to the sound Of conch and dissonant gong: On that stony savage shore Strip off your clothes and dance, for Unless you are capable Of forgetting completely About Atlantis, you will Never finish your journey. Farewell, my dear, farewell: may Hermes, master of the roads, And the four dwarf Kabiri, Protect and serve you always; And may the Ancient of Days Provide for all you must do His invisible guidance, Lifting up, dear, upon you The light of His countenance. This vision stood against the commanding power of the nation-state, against pragmatism, against modern technocratic canons of efficiency.
I was just dumb enough to pay rent. Farewell, my dear, farewell: may Hermes, master of the roads, And the four dwarf Kabiri, Protect and serve you always; And may the Ancient of Days Provide for all you must do His invisible guidance, Lifting up, dear, upon you The light of His countenance. Should storms, as may well happen, Drive you to anchor a week In some old harbour-city Of Ionia, then speak With her witty scholars, men Who have proved there cannot be Such a place as Atlantis: Learn their logic, but notice How its subtlety betrays Their enormous simple grief; Thus they shall teach you the ways To doubt that you may believe. Stagger onward rejoicing; And even then if, perhaps Having actually got To the last col, you collapse With all Atlantis shining Below you yet you cannot Descend, you should still be proud Even to have been allowed Just to peep at Atlantis In a poetic vision: Give thanks and lie down in peace, Having seen your salvation. If, later, you run aground Among the headlands of Thrace, Where with torches all night long A naked barbaric race Leaps frenziedly to the sound Of conch and dissonant gong: On that stony savage shore Strip off your clothes and dance, for Unless you are capable Of forgetting completely About Atlantis, you will Never finish your journey. All the little household gods Have started crying, but say Good-bye now, and put to sea.
. If, later, you run aground Among the headlands of Thrace, Where with torches all night long A naked barbaric race Leaps frenziedly to the sound Of conch and dissonant gong: On that stony savage shore Strip off your clothes and dance, for Unless you are capable Of forgetting completely About Atlantis, you will Never finish your journey. And he wonders what will happen to them when he dies. It was on the top floor of a five-story walk-up and it had beautiful molding, dark hardwood floors, and a roof with a tiny view of the Manhattan skyline and the East River. Funding gives us more weapons! Farewell, my dear, farewell: may Hermes, master of the roads, And the four dwarf Kabiri, Protect and serve you always; And may the Ancient of Days Provide for all you must do His invisible guidance, Lifting up, dear, upon you The light of His countenance. . Being set on the idea Of getting to Atlantis, You have discovered of course Only the Ship of Fools is Making the voyage this year, As gales of abnormal force Are predicted, and that you Must therefore be ready to Behave absurdly enough To pass for one of The Boys, At least appearing to love Hard liquor, horseplay and noise.
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