#w.h art

[389]

Mazes and Labyrinths (1922) by W. H. Matthews

[diana-andraste]

[apoemaday]

Musée des Beaux Arts

by W. H. Auden

About suffering they were never wrong, The old Masters: how well they understood Its human position: how it takes place While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along; How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting For the miraculous birth, there always must be Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating On a pond at the edge of the wood: They never forgot That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer’s horse Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel’s Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green Water, and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

[usefulquotes7]

Whatever you do, good or bad, people will always have something negative to say. W.H. Auden

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

Stop All the Clocks Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message: He Is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear white cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good. - W.H. Auden

[lux-vitae]

Epaminondas Defending Pelopidas at the Battle of Mantinea, illustration by William Rainey for Plutarch’s Lives for Boys and Girls by W.H. Weston (1900)

[thebeautifulbook]

COLLECTED SHORTER POEMS by W.H. Auden. Art binding.

[thepursuitofunderstanding]

We are lived by powers we pretend to understand.

W.H. Auden

[detroitlib]

"Michigan" by W. H. Holmes.

Smithsonian American Art Museum, Gift of Dr. Anna Bartsch Dunne 1932

[chibifox2002]

🐤🎨⭐🎀: "YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HOWDY?!?!"

🩺:"PLEASE DON'T YELL!!!"

Wanted to try drawing some of the other characters and thought this image was funny/cute in my head lol

((rip in pepperonis to my hand tho I did this all in one sitting and I'm paying the price for it ����🙃))

[poems-from-around-the-world]

Musée des Beaux Arts - W.H. Auden - UK

December 1938

About suffering they were never wrong,

The Old Masters: how well they understood

Its human position; how it takes place

While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully along

How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting

For the miraculous birth, there always must be

Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating

On a pond at the edge of the wood:

They never forgot

That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course

Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot

Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse

Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away

Quite leisurely from the disaster; the ploughman may

Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry, 

But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone

As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green

Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen

Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,

Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

[andreabonazzi]

Portraits: Thomas Ligotti, Joe Pulver, Wilum H. Pugmire.

[sauvagii]

Excalibur by W. H. Margetson from Legends of King Arthur and His Knights (P. 291) - 1914

[bibliophile78]

"...we moved beatifically incommunicado, archangels on leave..."

-M.F.K Fisher

(There's a reason Auden called her the best prose stylist in America in his lifetime)

[principiumindividuationis777]