| Gone
but not forgotten | | |
| People
stay alive by being remembered | | |
| Remember
world wide | | |
| Remember
wherever whenever | | |
| 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
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 wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any
good. |
|
