Home is So Sad by Philip Larkin
Home is So Sad
Philip LarkinHome is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped in the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theftAnd turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
MARGINALIA
I was thinking of leaving. But I know it’s not going to be the answer.
ABOUT PHILIP LARKIN
Philip Larkin was born in Coventry, England in 1922. He earned his BA from St. John’s College, Oxford. He worked in libraries his entire life, first in Shropshire and Leicester, and then at Queen’s College in Belfast, and finally as librarian at the University of Hull. In addition to collections of poetry, Larkin published two novels—Jill (1946) and A Girl in Winter (1947)—as well as criticism, essays, and reviews of jazz music. The latter were collected in two volumes: All… (more)
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ENDNOTES
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