Dear, though the night is gone by W H Auden (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

This poem was also called The Dream. Auden often had nightmares about his lover being unfaithful. Chester Kallman whom he met in 1939 caused him to suffer greatly from jealousy - but this poem was written a few years before that. There's an article by James Fenton here:
www.nybooks.com...
And here's Clive James' article written on Auden;s death in 1973.
www.clivejames....
The first picture is Christmas Morning by Andrew Wyeth, 1944. It's a well known painting. It was used to illustrate a story that you should read if you are troubled by a fear of dying.
reneetamara.wor...
The Duchess of Westminster's Hospital for wounded British and their allies in the Casino at Le Touquet.
www.magnoliabox...
Dear, though the night is gone,
Its dream still haunts today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in that gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.
Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms round each other's neck,
Inert and vaguely sad.
O but what worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out?
(The version I printed above is without a question mark but the last sentence is clearly a question. I apologise, I didn't notice it.)

[@robertporter6946]

Thanks for bringing Auden into focus and, perhaps even more, for the links that speak powerfully of life and death.