Work Text:
Check all the clocks, turn off my mobile.
Prevent John from yelling with a tentative smile,
Play the violin and with muffled drum
Say aloud the news, let the amazement come.
Let aeroplanes circle cheering overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Not Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the knobs of the 221 flats,
Let the Yard policemen wear deerstalker hats.
John was my North, my South, my East and West,
My work, my friend, my colleague, my rest
My noon, my midnight, my deductions, my song;
I thought that love would prevent our parting, I was wrong.
The stars have some beauty now; light every one,
Unpack the moon and assemble the sun.
Pour out the Thames, and pile up the wood;
For now even I can become something good.