![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Poetry Month: Funeral Blues
I know, I know, I'm late in joining the Poetry Month celebrations. But, better late than never, right?
I'm very fond of W.H. Auden's Funeral Blues. (I happened to read it shortly after OotP came out, and it struck me as quite appropriate for Remus mourning Sirius.)
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 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.
If you'd rather hear it recited, watch this clip from Four Weddings and a Funeral on YouTube. If you've never seen the movie, Matthew recites the poem at the funeral of his lover Gareth. This scene usually makes me cry.
I'm very fond of W.H. Auden's Funeral Blues. (I happened to read it shortly after OotP came out, and it struck me as quite appropriate for Remus mourning Sirius.)
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 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.
If you'd rather hear it recited, watch this clip from Four Weddings and a Funeral on YouTube. If you've never seen the movie, Matthew recites the poem at the funeral of his lover Gareth. This scene usually makes me cry.