funeral blues

Four Weddings and a Funeral

W.H. Auden is one of my most favorite poets ever and hearing this recited while watching Four Weddings and a Funeral was a treat.  I always liked how straightforward his poetry was; somehow it was that exactly that made his poems memorable.  Even his most sentimental works always left me with this impression that he was trying to hold back this tidal wave of emotion.  There's always that restraint that oddly makes everything concise and crystal clear.  I'd say he's a man of few words, but how weighty and well-chosen those words are.

Funeral Blues
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.