Stop all the clocks
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 the airplanes 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 easy 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 starts 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.
This beautiful and loving poem was given by
Robert D. Grinstead
Thank you Robert for this beautiful poem
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