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More poems by Philip LarkinPhilip Larkin | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments (4) | Books by Philip LarkinBooks by Philip Larkin

Poetry Of Departures

Philip Larkin

Sometimes you hear, fifth-hand,
As epitaph:
He chucked up everything
And just cleared off,
And always the voice will sound
Certain you approve
This audacious, purifying,
Elemental move.

And they are right, I think.
We all hate home
And having to be there:
I detest my room,
It's specially-chosen junk,
The good books, the good bed,
And my life, in perfect order:
So to hear it said

He walked out on the whole crowd
Leaves me flushed and stirred,
Like Then she undid her dress
Or Take that you bastard;
Surely I can, if he did?
And that helps me to stay
Sober and industrious.
But I'd go today,

Yes, swagger the nut-strewn roads,
Crouch in the fo'c'sle
Stubbly with goodness, if
It weren't so artificial,
Such a deliberate step backwards
To create an object:
Books; china; a life
Reprehensibly perfect.

Added: 24 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 31 Oct 2014 3:45 PM | Viewed: 32890 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/4864/ | Viewed on 31 October 2014.
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