Saturday, January 17, 2009


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.

- W. H. Auden


Steven said...


WendyB said...

I'm so sorry.

camille0528 said...

So very sorry!

Cynthia V said...

So sorry!

painter girl said...

Oh Ms. Poochie, I am sooo sorry. All my thoughts and wishes to you in this awful time.

Cal said...

OH no...my heart stopped a bit reading that poem. Our warm little creatures bring so much joy into our lives and it is so painful to say goodbye. Prayers and hugs for your family as they mourn...