Stop All the Clocks by W.H. Auden
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 crêpe 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, my 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 wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
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Do you know why Agatha Christie visited Australia? What did Sir Arthur Conan Doyle do here that was so controversial? What did D.H. Lawrence do at the zoo? And what did Rudyard Kipling have to say about Sydneysiders? The Writers Walk at Circular Quay consists of 60 brass plaques set into the pavement between the Opera House and the Rocks. These plaques commemorate the visits of various writers to Sydney, some from other parts of Australia and others from much further afield. Read more
