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 She Is Dead, Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. 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. May you Rest in Peace Anne xx
Posted on: Fri, 13 Sep 2013 21:20:45 +0000
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