Well, So That is That

These past few weeks I have been sharing my thoughts on W. H. Auden’s For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio. Now that Christmas Day is past, I thought I would share a final excerpt from the ending of the poem. If there is any part of his work that people have heard before, it is likely this section. If you are not familiar with it, consider this a belated Christmas gift. It speaks for itself, so I will quote it without comment.   

Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree, 
Putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes — 
Some have got broken — and carrying them up to the attic. 
The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt, 
And the children got ready for school. There are enough 
Left-overs to do, warmed-up, for the rest of the week — 
Not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot, 
Stayed up so late, attempted — quite unsuccessfully — 
To love all of our relatives, and in general 
Grossly overestimated our powers. Once again 
As in previous years we have seen the actual Vision and failed 
To do more than entertain it as an agreeable 
Possibility, once again we have sent Him away, 
Begging though to remain His disobedient servant, 
The promising child who cannot keep His word for long. 
The Christmas Feast is already a fading memory, 
And already the mind begins to be vaguely aware 
Of an unpleasant whiff of apprehension at the thought 
Of Lent and Good Friday which cannot, after all, now 
Be very far off. But, for the time being, here we all are, 
Back in the moderate Aristotelian city 
Of darning and the Eight-Fifteen, where Euclid’s geometry 
And Newton’s mechanics would account for our experience, 
And the kitchen table exists because I scrub it. 
It seems to have shrunk during the holidays. The streets 
Are much narrower than we remembered; we had forgotten 
The office was as depressing as this. To those who have seen 
The Child, however dimly, however incredulously, 
The Time Being is, in a sense, the most trying time of all.