by W. H. Auden

    Among pelagian travelers，

    Lost on their lewd¹ conceited² way

    To Massachusetts， Michigan，

    Miami or L.A.，

    An airborne instrument I sit，

    Predestined nightly to fulfill³

    Columbia-Giesen-Management's

    Unfathomable will，

    By whose election justified⁴，

    I bring my gospel of the Muse⁵

    To fundamentalists， to nuns⁶，

    to Gentiles and to Jews，

    And daily， seven days a week，

    Before a local sense has jelled，

    From talking-site to talking-site

    Am jet-or-prop-propelled.

    Though warm my welcome everywhere，

    I shift so frequently， so fast，

    I cannot now say where I was

    The evening before last，

    Unless some singular event

    Should intervene to save the place，

    A truly asinine⁷ remark，

    A soul-bewitching face，

    Or blessed encounter， full of joy，

    Unscheduled on the Giesen Plan，

    With， here， an addict⁸ of Tolkien，

    There， a Charles Williams fan.

    Since Merit but a dunghill is，

    I mount the rostrum unafraid：

    Indeed， 'twere damnable to ask

    If I am overpaid.

    Spirit is willing to repeat

    Without a qualm the same old talk，

    But Flesh is homesick for our snug⁹

    Apartment in New York.

    A sulky fifty-six， he finds

    A change of mealtime utter hell，

    Grown far too crotchety to like

    A luxury hotel.

    The Bible is a goodly book

    I always can peruse¹⁰ with zest¹¹，

    But really cannot say the same

    For Hilton's Be My Guest.

    Nor bear with equanimity¹²

    The radio in students' cars，

    Muzak at breakfast， or——dear God！——

    Girl-organists in bars.

    Then， worst of all， the anxious thought，

    Each time my plane begins to sink

    And the No Smoking sign comes on：

    What will there be to drink？

    Is this my milieu¹³ where I must

    How grahamgreeneish！  How infra dig！

    Snatch from the bottle in my bag

    An analeptic swig？

    Another morning comes： I see，

    Dwindling¹⁴ below me on the plane，

    The roofs of one more audience

    I shall not see again.

    God bless the lot of them， although

    I don't remember which was which：

    God bless the U.S.A.， so large，

    So friendly， and so rich.

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