2.3. 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 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 everyone;
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.
About the author:
Wystan Hugh Auden was an English born man of letters who achieved early fame in the 1930s as a hero of the left during the Great Depression. He was the leader of the so-called Auden Group, a group of writers with left wing sympathies that included Stephen Spender, C.Day Lewis and
The author tells about the clock stops cut off the telephones
ReplyDeletethe Barking dogs with juicy bones
bring out the coffins and mourners come.
the sky and the message he is dead
he was a north the south east and west
Sankari
ReplyDeleteII BA English
112205918
Hugh Auden was an English born man of letters who achieved early fame in the 1930s as a hero of the left during the Great Depression. He was the leader of the so-called Auden Group, a group of writers with left wing sympathies that included