Miss Helen Slingsby was my maiden aunt, <br />And lived in a small house near a fashionable square <br />Cared for by servants to the number of four. <br />Now when she died there was silence in heaven <br />And silence at her end of the street. <br />The shutters were drawn and the undertaker wiped his feet-- <br />He was aware that this sort of thing had occurred before. <br />The dogs were handsomely provided for, <br />But shortly afterwards the parrot died too. <br />The Dresden clock continued ticking on the mantelpiece, <br />And the footman sat upon the dining-table <br />Holding the second housemaid on his knees-- <br />Who had always been so careful while her mistress lived.<br /><br />Thomas Stearns Eliot<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aunt-helen/
