Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Tie 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 good.
"Funeral Blues" is a Song poem, in which it has a certain rhythm, or beat, which can be sung to. This poem is called a blues song. The blues were originally music developed by the slaves in the south that spoke of sadness, pain, or a time of loss. Blues songs were traditionally composed of three-line stanzas where the first two lines are identical and followed by a concluding riming third line. However, Auden does not include the "three-line stanzas" in his poem, and it is written in a freestyle...