[lit-ideas] Re: Auden
- From: Ursula Stange <Ursula@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Thu, 22 Feb 2007 16:06:19 -0500
I've always liked this....
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Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos & 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 & West,
My working week & my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I tho't that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon & dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean & sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
W.H. Auden
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