Funeral Blues | Sympathy Poems

Funeral Blues
(Sympathy Poems)

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 airplanes 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 forever .. 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.

– W. H. Auden