Poem read at funeral:
"Stop the clocks,
Cut off the telephone
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the piano and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin - let the mourners come.
Let an aeroplane circle mourners overhead,
Scribbling in the sky the message - He is dead.
Put crepe bows round the necks of the white public doves,
Let 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 wood
Cos nothing now can ever come to any good"
Funeral Blues By W.H.Auden