Episode 109: Philip Larkin, Aubade

Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen — Sat, 09 May 2026 08:00:00 -0400

This episode continues our series on the aubade (a morning love song) with a dramatic turn. Larkin reinvents the tradition as waking to the fact that every new day brings a person one day closer to death.

To see the tradition that Larkin reimagines, see our previous episode on John Donne, "The Sun Rising."

For the text of Larkin's "Aubade" see the Poetry Foundation.

For more on Larkin, see the Poetry Foundation.

Thanks to Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, as well as Faber and Faber, for permission to read Larkin's "Aubade" for this episode.

Photo by Barry Wilkinson/Radio Times via Getty Images

Episode 107: John Donne, The Sun Rising

Joanne Diaz and Abram Van Engen — Fri, 10 Apr 2026 16:00:00 -0400

This episode begins a three-part series on the "aubade," a poem to greet the morning (often by wishing the morning away). We discuss Donne's many wonderful techniques and even recite a little Romeo and Juliet.

Here is the poem:

The Sun Rising
By John Donne

           Busy old fool, unruly sun,
           Why dost thou thus,

Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentices,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

           Thy beams, so reverend and strong
           Why shouldst thou think?

I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look, and tomorrow late, tell me,
Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftst them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.

           She's all states, and all princes, I,
           Nothing else is.

Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honor's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world's contracted thus.
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy sphere.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44129/the-sun-rising

For more on Donne:
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/john-donne

Poetry For All - Episodes Tagged with “Aubade”

Episode 109: Philip Larkin, Aubade

Episode 107: John Donne, The Sun Rising