The trumpet's voice, loud and authoritative, <br />Draws me a moment to the lighted glass <br />To watch the dancers - all under twenty-five - <br />Solemnly on the beat of happiness. <br /> <br />- Or so I fancy, sensing the smoke and sweat, <br />The wonderful feel of girls. Why be out there ? <br />But then, why be in there? Sex, yes, but what <br />Is sex ? Surely to think the lion's share <br />Of happiness is found by couples - sheer <br /> <br />Inaccuracy, as far as I'm concerned. <br />What calls me is that lifted, rough-tongued bell <br />(Art, if you like) whose individual sound <br />Insists I too am individual. <br />It speaks; I hear; others may hear as well, <br /> <br />But not for me, nor I for them; and so <br />With happiness. Therefor I stay outside, <br />Believing this, and they maul to and fro, <br />Believing that; and both are satisfied, <br />If no one has misjudged himself. Or lied.<br /><br />Philip Larkin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reasons-for-attendance/
