1. This line reminded me of Mark Strand's poems:
By mourning tongues
The death of the poet was kept from his poems.
And then I thought, maybe all Mark Strand is emptied out Auden.
2. This phrase reminded me of Rilke (but the Rilke trs. by Stephen Mitchell who definitely would have read this Auden poem):
it survives,/A way of happening, a mouth.
And the Rilke/Mitchell:
True singing is a different breath, about
nothing. A gust inside the god. A wind.
Why do I care to write this? I don't know. I just "heard" these echoes in my mind and wanted to share them.