Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Beautiful poem...



I came across it while looking for something else, and it's such a beautiful poem, albeit sad. I particularly like the two last stanzas.

W. H. Auden
Funeral Blues

(Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone)


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 for ever: 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.

3 comments:

  1. You are right, it is a rather sad poem, but you'know I like sad.

    Great discovery that you made there. Keep chasing the art and the words!

    So much love for you,
    B.

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  2. It's actually been written by a man, for another man. ;)

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  3. Sorry for the late reply, my beautiful love...
    I kind of realized that, but then I thought that it couldbe a poem for a brother or someone blood-related. Sometimes, we feel more love and passion for someone who we're blood related with... :P

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