Welcome back to the Daily Poem, which is brought to you this month by Bibliophiles.

I'm David Kern and today's Thursday, February 24th, 2022.

Earlier this week on February 21st, W.H. Aoudin had a birthday. He was born in February of 2007 and died in September of 1973.

And he, of course, is a poet that you've heard from many times on this podcast, but I did

want to share one in commemoration of his birthday.

He was a British-American poet, of course, known for poems like September 1, 1939, The Shield

of Achilles, the Age of Anxiety, and for the time being.

And the poem that I'm going to read today is from 1969, towards the end of his life.

It was published in Poetry Magazine, and it's called Dog Roll by a Senior Citizen. I want to read

this poem because it captures the entertainment value, the sense of humor that is often found

in W.H. Alden's poetry.

Even as that runs through it, two strains, one of cynicism and one of earnestness,

one of nostalgia and one of cynicism, I should perhaps say, that are crossing over one another and intertwined.

It is a little long, much like yesterday's poem,

and so I will read it, keep my comments to a minimum,

and then read it one more time for you.

But this is Doggerald by a Senior Citizen by W.H. Auden.

Our Earth in 1969 is not the planet I call mine.

The world, I mean, that gives me strength to hold off chaos at arm's length.

My Eden landscapes and their climbs are constructs from Edwardian times,

when bathrooms took up lots of space and before eating once at grace.

The automobile, the aeroplane, are useful gadgets, but profane, the

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