Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
\nPrevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
\nSilence the pianos and with muffled drum
\nBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
\nLet aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
\nScribbling on the sky the message She Is Dead,
\nPut crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
\nLet the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
\nShe was my North, my South, my East and West,
\nMy working week and my Sunday rest,
\nMy noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
\nI thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.
\nThe stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
\nPack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
\nPour away the ocean and sweep up the wood,
\nFor nothing now can ever come to any good.
\nW.H. Auden<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 … Continue reading