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Epitaph On A Tyrant

W. H. Auden

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.
Online text © 1998-2014 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
Written c. 1939
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