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24 August 2008 @ 10:35 pm
Stop all the Clocks  
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

W. H. Auden

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.


Used in the funeral scene of one of my favorite movies, Four Weddings and a Funeral. Makes me cry every time.
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3treekisser: Flower Spray3treekisser on August 26th, 2008 12:09 pm (UTC)
It's called 'Funeral Blues' in my edition of his selected poems. Auden, when he isn't incomprehensibly wordy, is fantastic! :D
Tapatitapati on August 26th, 2008 11:05 pm (UTC)
I'd like to get a book of his poems. Amazing!