2014.02.18 01:00 - Atlantis

by WH Auden

ATLANTIS 

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. 

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. 

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. 

Again, should you come to gay 
Carthage or Corinth, take part 
In their endless gaiety; 
And if in some bar a tart, 
As she strokes your hair, should say 
This is Atlantis, dearie, 
Listen with attentiveness 
To her life-story: unless 
You become acquainted now 
With each refuge that tries to 
Counterfeit Atlantis, how 
Will you recognise the true? 

Assuming you beach at last 
Near Atlantis, and begin 
That terrible trek inland 
Through squalid woods and frozen 
Tundras where all are soon lost; 
If, forsaken then, you stand, 
Dismissal everywhere, 
Stone and snow, silence and air, 
O remember the great dead 
And honour the fate you are, 
Travelling and tormented, 
Dialectic and bizarre. 

Stagger onwards 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 
Just to peep at Atlantis, 
In a poetic vision: 
Give thanks and lie down in peace, 
Having seen your salvation. 

All the little household gods 
Have started crying, but say 
Goodbye now, and put out to sea. 
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.