it’s a sad day, therefore no funny ancedotes. (sorry kids) However, i will take time to pay tribute to a fabulous poet, and the greatest movie ever, (with the exception of Moulin Rouge), which is four weddings and a funeral
without further ado, here is the mourning poem appropriate for this solemnest of days borrowed from the death scene in 4 weddings.
Stop All the Clocks
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, my 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
