Uploaded April 2014 | Updated September 2026, 3 weeks ago
"Vers de Société" means witty verse about social foibles and fashions.
Which? is a magazine which compares household appliances and consumer products.
Hosts would have been delighted to have such a notable poet at one of their parties. Larkin got more than his fair share of social obligations. He didn't like these gatherings, with their small talk and affected mechanical cheerfulness. On the other hand he didn't like his own company either, sinking easily into a well of anxiety about his health and mortality.
Here's Larkin himself reading it:
youtube.com/watch?v=chJN8Zcrudo
Artwork:
The Cocktail Party by Thomas Hart:
thomashartteague.com
The Cocktail Party by Teresa Bingham
peterskeltonnlpcoach.com/great-conversationalist-knows-say-know-say/the-cocktail-party-teresa-bingham
The Cocktail Party by Alex Katz
aestheticrealism.org/outreach/art-talks
Drinks Party:
simonsgallery.com
My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours; perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid—
Funny how hard it is to be alone.
I could spend half my evenings, if I wanted,
Holding a glass of washing sherry, canted
Over to catch the drivel of some bitch
Who's read nothing but Which;
Just think of all the spare time that has flown
Straight into nothingness by being filled
With forks and faces, rather than repaid
Under a lamp, hearing the noise of wind,
And looking out to see the moon thinned
To an air-sharpened blade.
A life, and yet how sternly it's instilled
All solitude is selfish. No one now
Believes the hermit with his gown and dish
Talking to God (who's gone too); the big wish
Is to have people nice to you, which means
Doing it back somehow.
Virtue is social. Are, then, these routines
Playing at goodness, like going to church?
Something that bores us, something we don't do well
(Asking that ass about his fool research)
But try to feel, because, however crudely,
It shows us what should be?
Too subtle, that. Too decent, too. Oh hell,
Only the young can be alone freely.
The time is shorter now for company,
And sitting by a lamp more often brings
Not peace, but other things.
Beyond the light stand failure and remorse
Whispering Dear Warlock-Williams: Why, of course—
"Vers de Société" means witty verse about social foibles and fashions.
Which? is a magazine which compares household appliances and consumer products.
Hosts would have been delighted to have such a notable poet at one of their parties. Larkin got more than his fair share of social obligations. He didn't like these gatherings, with their small talk and affected mechanical cheerfulness. On the other hand he didn't like his own company either, sinking easily into a well of anxiety about his health and mortality.
Here's Larkin himself reading it:
youtube.com/watch?v=chJN8Zcrudo
Artwork:
The Cocktail Party by Thomas Hart:
thomashartteague.com
The Cocktail Party by Teresa Bingham
peterskeltonnlpcoach.com/great-conversationalist-knows-say-know-say/the-cocktail-party-teresa-bingham
The Cocktail Party by Alex Katz
aestheticrealism.org/outreach/art-talks
Drinks Party:
simonsgallery.com
My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours; perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid—
Funny how hard it is to be alone.
I could spend half my evenings, if I wanted,
Holding a glass of washing sherry, canted
Over to catch the drivel of some bitch
Who's read nothing but Which;
Just think of all the spare time that has flown
Straight into nothingness by being filled
With forks and faces, rather than repaid
Under a lamp, hearing the noise of wind,
And looking out to see the moon thinned
To an air-sharpened blade.
A life, and yet how sternly it's instilled
All solitude is selfish. No one now
Believes the hermit with his gown and dish
Talking to God (who's gone too); the big wish
Is to have people nice to you, which means
Doing it back somehow.
Virtue is social. Are, then, these routines
Playing at goodness, like going to church?
Something that bores us, something we don't do well
(Asking that ass about his fool research)
But try to feel, because, however crudely,
It shows us what should be?
Too subtle, that. Too decent, too. Oh hell,
Only the young can be alone freely.
The time is shorter now for company,
And sitting by a lamp more often brings
Not peace, but other things.
Beyond the light stand failure and remorse
Whispering Dear Warlock-Williams: Why, of course—
