Poetry: W.H Auden - Funeral Blues

Funeral Blues

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 the aeroplanes circle, moaning overhead
scribbling on the sky, the message - "he is dead"
put the crepe bows round the white necks of public doves
let the traffic policeman wear black cotton gloves

he was my north, my south, my east , my west
my working week and my sunday rest
my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
i thought my love would last forever-
I WAS WRONG

the stars are not wanted, 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.

W.H Auden

After the great German declamation, you will listen to this poem masterly made music.