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# That is very woo,
and most excitingly guffaw-making, but I'd just like to break up the laughs for a moment by saying:

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 policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: 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 and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.


My apologies. Normal service will now be resumed.
/Four Weddings on S4C, and easily my favourite poem ever.
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:43, archived)
# Surely that would be
'Pedair priodasau'?
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:45, archived)
# Strangely enough,
they haven't translated it. Not even subtitled it.
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:46, archived)
# Oh, I quite liked that film!
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:47, archived)
# Phillip Larkin
isn't it?
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:47, archived)
# W H Auden
(, Sun 23 Nov 2003, 0:50, archived)