funeral blues

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.

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Poetry by W.H. Auden

_____________________________

I must confess to another non-literary experience in the way I first

came into contact with this poetry -- I heard it recited in the movie

"Four Weddings And A Funeral".  After reading W.H. Auden's words I

felt very connected to them, and found a way to express them

musically.  I find Auden's poetry to be achingly painful, inordinately

expressive and profound, and deep and wailing in the emotions it

expresses.  I've tried to capture those qualities in my music, to create

what is hopefully a worthy tribute to Auden's ageless words.

music and melody dc 1995