15 June 2010

A cliché that fits

It's become a cliché, this poem, but it fits, so I post it here. WH Auden's 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.

1 comment:

  1. The end of this reveals it to be a break-up song, but I've always felt like up until then it felt more like a mourning song. I guess mourning a break-up. Anyway, until the final four lines or so it seems to fit. By Kasey Chambers:

    If I could learn how to fly
    My feet would never touch the ground
    I'd never have to say goodbye
    I wouldn't have to make a sound
    I could give away this heart
    Leave it in the lost and found
    If I could fly high I'd never come down

    If I could sail across the sea
    I would head towards the sun
    I would never have to be
    Anything to anyone
    I could chase your memory
    And then I'd never have to run

    If I could sail away I'd never come home

    But I am still here
    There's nowhere else to go
    Yeah I am still here
    There's no-one else to hold
    And I can't fly I'm not that strong
    Yeah I am still here
    And you're still gone

    If I could fall into your arms
    Promise never to let go
    Would you keep me safe from harm
    And take me every where you go
    We could throw away the past
    And then you'd never have to know
    If I could hold your heart
    I'd never let go

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