Halil Ockford

A hundred lesser faces, so

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

My rags of heart can like, wish, and adore,

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead

But after one such love, can love no more.