Domino Magazine Funeral Blues

Those of us who love interior design were saddened by the news that my favorite magazine will cease publication after the March issue. Their excellent web site will apparently also be removed. Hold on to your old issues and buy their book. Domino was a magazine that valued style, not price tags. Job well done, but you were with us too short a time. Here is a lovely poem to honor the passing of an outstanding magazine.

Funeral Blues

W.H. 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 crepe bows round the white 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 for ever: 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.