Funeral blues

2026-05-07

A poem by W.H.Auden (1907-1973)

This poem was read in the film "Four marriages and a funeral"

I just stumbled upon it and wanted to write it down.


          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
          aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling in the sky the message
          He is Dead, Put crêpe 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.