Sunday, May 18, 2008

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 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 woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W. H. Auden

6 comments:

matt said...

I am so, so sorry, Tyler.

mcm said...

You don't know me, I don't know you - I don't even know how I stumbled on your blog. But my heart goes out to you and your family now, and I'm so sorry for your loss.

Brit said...

I'm so sorry Tyler. Once again, my thoughts are with you.

Broady said...

I'm so very sorry for your loss, Tyler. We went through this last August w/ my mother-in-law... cancer, hospice, the whole thing. It's a miserable business, but ultimately survivable and things will get better eventually.

I will be thinking of you and your family in the coming days.

And that poem has always broken my heart.

Tony said...

I'm so sorry Tyler. My thoughts are with you and your family...

Jester said...

My condolences. Hopefully you can find some comfort in knowing that your father's suffering has ended. Big internet hugs.