Funeral Blues

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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 telephone,
Prevent the                       a juicy bone,
        the pianos and                  
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
    airplanes circle         overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
          bows round the white       of the public       
Let the traffic           wear black cotton        
He was my        my        my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday      
My       my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for       I was       
The stars are            now: put     every one;
     up the moon and dismantle the     
     away the       and sweep up the wood.
For         now can ever come to any good.

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