"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
Prevent the dogs from barking..
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come

Let the aeroplanes circle overhead,
Scribbling on the sky the message, "HE is dead"
Put great bows around the necks of the public doves
Let traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and my West
My working week, 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, sweep up the wood
For nothing now can come to any good"

By W. H. Auden