Funeral Blues

Random Literature or song Quiz

Can you complete W. H. Auden's Funeral Blues?

Featured Apr 3, 2009

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Score 0/30 Timer 07:00
Stop all the clocks, cut off the           
Prevent the          barking      a juicy      
Silence the pianos and      muffled     
Bring     the         let the mourners come.
              circle moaning overhead
           on the sky the         He Is      
Put       bows round the white       of the public doves,
Let the         policemen            cotton        
He was my North, my South, my      and      
My working      and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I         that love would      for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not             put     every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
     away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing     can ever come to any good.

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Created Apr 3, 2009Report
Tags:Lyrics, song, auden, blue, funeral, Funeral Blues, H Auden