Sympathy for a Friend

Our beloved Ramblin' Educat lost her father after a long struggle in intensive care last Tuesday. From all that our dear Educat has written, he seemed a wonderful father with a joy in his family.

I hope that she will be comforted by this poem, which I hope has special meaning for her.

Song IX

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 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 and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
-- W. H. Auden

Please stop by the Educat's place if you get the chance. She is a rare gem.