Tuesday, August 19, 2003

Funeral Blues
by 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 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.

i missed this poem --sort of like one would miss an old friend-- so i looked it up online and posted it for posterity. i remember hearing it during the movie [Four Weddings and a Funeral] and while i no longer remember the content of the movie i still recall the scene in which this poem was read aloud, and falling in love with auden for the first time.

am considering buying a new tv and dvd player from walmart. total cost under 200 dollars. think it may be worth it to be able to watch dvd movies at my place on a tv screen instead of a computer screen -on someone else's computer. or trekking over to H's place in the cold. so we'll see what happens.

in the meantime, work is slow, so it's time to take off early for the day and get some extensive reading done: i did some shopping over the weekend at the three bookstores in hyde park and now have lots to read and no uninterrupted time to do it in...

jay's just taken off and it's 3.46pm. indeed the mice are playing while the boss is away!


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