Funeral Blues

Random Literature or song Quiz

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

Featured Apr 3, 2009

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Stop     the clocks, cut off the           
Prevent the dog from         with a       bone,
Silence the pianos and                  
Bring out the coffin, let the               
Let           circle moaning         
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe            the white       of the        doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear       cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and      
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my       my      
I thought that love would      for ever: I was wrong.
The       are not             put out           
     up the      and dismantle the sun;
          the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to     good.

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