Saw this excerpt from W.H. Auden on the Tube yesterday. Thought it was good enough to share. It’s in Collected Poems, Revised edition (2007).
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I’m picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.