Embassy

As evening fell, the day's opression lifted
Far peaks came into focus; it had rained.
Across wide fields and cultured flowers drifted
The conversation of the highly trained.

Two gardeners watched, and priced their shoes;
A chauffer waited, reading in the drive
For them to finish their exchange of views;
It seemed a picture of the private life.

Far off, no matter what good they intended,
The armies waited for a fatal error
With all the instruments for causing pain.

And on the issue of their charm depended
A land laid waste, with all its young men slain,
Its women weeping, and its towns in terror.

-W. H. Auden

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