Pack up the Moon and Dismantle the Sun

Okay, so this is a little weird for an Easter poem. It's a tragic and hopeless poem about death, and I heard it because it is quoted in the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral." It nearly broke my heart, especially because I saw it late one night on TV shortly after Blake Morstad had died. I make this an Easter poem because it is such a stark contrast to Paul's proclamation, "O Death, where is your victory? O Death, where is your sting?"

It is only because of the resurrection that we have any hope. It is only because of the resurrection that this song is not our anthem.

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 around the necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policeman 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