This poem was originally not my own work.
IT IS A HARRY POTTER ADAPTATION OF W. H. AUDENS POEM – "Funeral Blues"
It was never mine, and never will be. I am making no money from this whatsoever, and would not want to.
This is written for George, in memory of Fred – his North, his south, his east and his west...........
Funeral Blues
Stop all the time-turners, cut off the fellytone,
Prevent the crups from barking with some juicy bones,
Silence the thestrals, and with house-elf hum,
Bring out the coffin, let the magical mourners come.
Let Comet 360's circle overhead
Scribbling in their slipstream the words "He Is Dead",
Put crepe bows round the white necks of post-owls,
Let the MOM Aurors wear black cotton cowls.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My enchanted week and my Sunday best,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought his magic would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: "put-outer" every one;
"Reducio" charm the moon and "imperious" the sun;
"Disillusion" the ocean and "fiend-fyre" the forbidden wood.
For nothing now, wizarding or otherwise, can ever come to any good.
FYI: a cowl is a handmade scarf-like collar. Usually knitted or crocheted.
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