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Sun, 19 Apr 2009 22:24:14 +0400

Wystan Hugh Auden

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 He is Dead
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policeman wear black cotton gloves.

He was me No...

Sat, 18 Apr 2009 21:58:00 +0400

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Avtor.net - �� Editor