Two types of literary laborers exist, one are owls who liked to write at night and another is Lark, who worked in the morning. W H Auden rejected the night owls and like Hemingway he supported the morning routine. Start writing in the first sunray.
Auden told “ only Hitlers of the world” work at night: no honest artist does. Just look on his routine—
Auden awoke about 6 A.M, made himself coffee and took a pass at the crossword.
He did writing from 7A.M to 11.30A.M
He restarted his work after lunch.
About 6.30 Am cocktail hours began, he liked Vodka martinis
Dinner followed by copious amounts of conversation and wine.
Auden went to bed early, never later than 11.00
I like his poem Funeral Blues, an elegy of dismal soul.
By: W. H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message ‘He is Dead’.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.