![W. H. Auden – The More Loving One](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTYEm9r36Yt7vF_gdQCxTilx4lX81mRQi3fqH8N-b4F9rOlWQM-byCk8_xLjbODgI_Yt3bU7JWOuy92rDsiMjHos6u_Mot4WBaM4WMHoJPvHoZOP4b9N7A3mgiOhlzau5Yy961rClsKEE/d-rw/w.h.auden.jpg)
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.