Funeral Poems

A collection of funeral poems & short funeral verses

When it comes to arranging a funeral service for a loved one who has passed away, there are so many different things to think of that make up this special event.

One such component is the funeral poems that clients may choose to include in the service, a popular addition in many funerals for years now.

The reading of funeral poems can help mourners vocalise their emotions during this time, and the huge range of poems means that there is sure to be something that resonates with you.

If you want to incorporate funeral poems in a service, we have collected information on all of the most popular new and traditional texts at Funeral Guide in our database of funeral info.

Funeral Poems Options

Poems for funerals can form an essential part of the funeral service. When it’s hard to express your loss in your own words, beautiful poetry from famous writers can convey what it feels like to say goodbye. These funeral poems are suitable to read as a eulogy or include in obituaries for anyone unable to attend the funeral service in person. You can also use them as short verses on funeral cards, as condolence messages, or as sympathy or bereavement poems.

The variety of funnel poems that we have available can help users at Funeral Guide find a text to suit any funeral service, from religious ceremonies to more humanist celebrations of life. These poems also feature a variety of lengths, from shorter verses in God Saw You to longer texts such as To Those Whom I Love & Those Who Love Me, which can help readers express their feelings.

Each one can provide a fitting memorial to a loved one, whether it be your mum, dad, grandparent or someone else special to you. Many of the poems listed are also suitable for non-religious services. All of the funeral and remembrance poems on Funeral Guide can be downloaded as a PDF suitable for printing out.

Funeral Hymns

Mourners have incorporated music of some sort into funeral ceremonies since prehistoric times, where mourners wailed for the spirit of the deceased. More modern examples of this are the variety of funeral hymns incorporating messages of mourning, celebration and faith in the service. Similar to funeral poems, these can help mourners vocalise their feelings of loss or even be arranged in someone's funeral wishes before their passing. 

Find Funeral Directors

Anyone going through the difficult process of planning a loved one's funeral will find the assistance of local funeral directors very welcome at this time. These companies can provide advice and support on making all of the bookings of a funeral from the venue to floral arrangements and transport. At Funeral Guide, we have collected information on all of the professional funeral directors from across the British Isles, including company details and even reviews from previous clients, available here.

This resource can help you find funeral directors in Brighton to Glasgow funeral directors with all of the information available to help you make an informed decision before hiring a funeral directors.

Funeral Guide

Advice relating to funeral poems, hymns, directors and more can be found here at Funeral Guide in the hope of easing this difficult process. For many, the funeral planning process is completely new, and we offer plenty of funeral help & advice that can prove useful during the most difficult times.

Featured funeral poems

All funeral poems

  • A Death-Bed

    Her suffering ended with the day;
    Yet lived she at its close,
    And breathed the long, long night away,
    In statue-like repose. 

    But when the sun, in all his state,
    Illumed the eastern skies,
    She passed through glory's morning-gate,
    And walked in Paradise!

    – James Aldrich
  • A Song of Living

    Because I have loved life, I shall have no sorrow to die.
    I have sent up my gladness on wings, to be lost in the blue of the sky.
    I have run and leaped with the rain,
    I have taken the wind to my breast.

    My cheek like a drowsy child
    to the face of the earth I have pressed.
    Because I have loved life,
    I shall have no sorrow to die.

    – Amelia Josephine Burr
  • A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

    As virtuous men pass mildly away,
    And whisper to their souls to go,
    Whilst some of their sad friends do say
    The breath goes now, and some say, No:

    So let us melt, and make no noise,
    No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;
    'Twere profanation of our joys
    To tell the laity our love.

    Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears,
    Men reckon what it did, and meant;
    But trepidation of the spheres,
    Though greater far, is innocent.

    Dull sublunary lovers' love
    (Whose soul is sense) cannot admit
    Absence, because it doth remove
    Those things which elemented it.

    But we by a love so much refined,
    That our selves know not what it is,
    Inter-assured of the mind,
    Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.

    Our two souls therefore, which are one,
    Though I must go, endure not yet
    A breach, but an expansion,
    Like gold to airy thinness beat.

    If they be two, they are two so
    As stiff twin compasses are two;
    Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show
    To move, but doth, if the other do.

    And though it in the center sit,
    Yet when the other far doth roam,
    It leans and hearkens after it,
    And grows erect, as that comes home.

    Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
    Like th' other foot, obliquely run;
    Thy firmness makes my circle just,
    And makes me end where I begun.

    – John Donne
  • Adonais

    Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep —
    He hath awakened from the dream of life —
    ‘Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
    With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
    And in mad trance, strike with our spirit’s knife
    Invulnerable nothings. — We decay
    Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
    Convulse us and consume us day by day,
    And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.

    The One remains, the many change and pass;
    Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly;
    Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
    Stains the white radiance of Eternity,
    Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die,
    If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
    Follow where all is fled!—Rome's azure sky,
    Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words, are weak
    The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

    – Percy Bysshe Shelley
  • After Their Death

    You might be covered
    By eyelids closed
    Over your whole being,
    Or reach with desperation
    For something alive
    To hold onto.
    Your fingertips will hide
    In a fist. No more palms
    Open to life.
    Humbled, the very ground
    Will seem so large. Someday
    The earth will own you.
    Or you see there's no time
    To waste, and plow
    Into previously feared goals.
    Try to be patient
    If it takes you years
    To return.
    This is the exit from Eden,
    When you have chosen life
    While wanting to die.
    This is the fall that gives
    Wisdom, perspective, gratefulness.
    It is worth the crawl, back to life.

    – Judith Pordon
  • Afterglow

    I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one.
    I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life is done.
    I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways,
    Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days.
    I’d like the tears of those who grieve, to dry before the sun;
    Of happy memories that I leave when life is done.

    – Helen Lowrie Marshall
  • Afternoon in February

    The day is ending,
    The night is descending;
    The marsh is frozen,
    The river dead. 

    Through clouds like ashes
    The red sun flashes
    On village windows
    That glimmer red. 

    The snow recommences;
    The buried fences
    Mark no longer
    The road o'er the plain; 

    While through the meadows,
    Like fearful shadows,
    Slowly passes
    A funeral train. 

    The bell is pealing,
    And every feeling
    Within me responds
    To the dismal knell; 

    Shadows are trailing,
    My heart is bewailing
    And tolling within
    Like a funeral bell.

    – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  • All Is Well

    Death is nothing at all,
    I have only slipped into the next room
    I am I and you are you
    Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
    Call me by my old familiar name,

    Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
    Put no difference in your tone,
    Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
    Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
    Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

    Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
    Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
    Life means all that it ever meant.
    It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
    Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

    I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
    Just around the corner.
    All is well.

    – Henry Scott Holland
  • All Nature Has A Feeling

    All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
    Are life eternal: and in silence they
    Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
    There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
    Is the green life of change; to pass away
    And come again in blooms revivified.
    Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
    And with the sun and moon shall still abide
    Beneath their day and night and heaven wide.

    – John Clare
  • All That Was Her

    Where’s she gone, the one we knew,
    The one we knew and loved,
    Who knew us all and loved us all –
    Where now is all that love? 

    Where now her smile? Where now her frown?
    Her bright, resounding laugh?
    Ah, all are gone, by time undone;
    All that was her is past.

    Down the stream we drifted,
    And saw her on the shore;
    Around a bend we drifted,
    And saw her then no more.

    And yet still she stands there 
    Still stands beside the shore. 

    – Oliver Wright
  • All Things Will Die

    All Things will Die
    Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
    Under my eye;
    Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
    Over the sky.
    One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
    Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
    Full merrily;
    Yet all things must die. 

    The stream will cease to flow;
    The wind will cease to blow;
    The clouds will cease to fleet;
    The heart will cease to beat;
    For all things must die.
    All things must die.

    Spring will come never more.
    O, vanity!
    Death waits at the door.
    See! our friends are all forsaking
    The wine and the merrymaking.
    We are call’d-we must go.
    Laid low, very low,
    In the dark we must lie. 

    The merry glees are still;
    The voice of the bird
    Shall no more be heard,
    Nor the wind on the hill.
    O, misery!
    Hark! death is calling
    While I speak to ye,
    The jaw is falling,
    The red cheek paling,
    The strong limbs failing;
    Ice with the warm blood mixing;
    The eyeballs fixing.
    Nine times goes the passing bell:
    Ye merry souls, farewell.

    The old earth
    Had a birth,
    As all men know,
    Long ago.
    And the old earth must die.
    So let the warm winds range,
    And the blue wave beat the shore;
    For even and morn
    Ye will never see
    Thro’ eternity.
    All things were born.
    Ye will come never more,
    For all things must die.

    – Alfred Lord Tennyson
  • An Angel Brushed My Shoulder

    An angel at my shoulder heard
    The whisper of goodbye
    Offering eternity as life slipped silent by
    So peacefilly it seemed in sleep
    You yielded to the love
    That reached across my shoulder
    To lift you high above
    But still you are beside me
    And with certainty I know
    The hands I can no longer hold
    Will guide me as I go
    For in that fleeeting moment
    At the touch of Heaven's embrace
    As one angel brushed my shoulder
    Another took it's place.

    – Catherine Turner
  • Annabel Lee

    It was many and many a year ago,
    In a kingdom by the sea,
    That a maiden there lived whom you may know
    By the name of Annabel Lee;
    And this maiden she lived with no other thought
    Than to love and be loved by me.

    I was a child and she was a child,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    But we loved with a love that was more than love—
    I and my Annabel Lee—
    With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
    Coveted her and me.

    And this was the reason that, long ago,
    In this kingdom by the sea,
    A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
    My beautiful Annabel Lee;
    So that her highborn kinsmen came
    And bore her away from me,
    To shut her up in a sepulchre
    In this kingdom by the sea.

    The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
    Went envying her and me—
    Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
    In this kingdom by the sea)
    That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
    Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

    But our love it was stronger by far than the love
    Of those who were older than we—
    Of many far wiser than we—
    And neither the angels in Heaven above
    Nor the demons down under the sea
    Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

    For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
    Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
    And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
    In her sepulchre there by the sea—
    In her tomb by the sounding sea.

    – Edgar Allan Poe
  • As Long As Hearts Remember

    As long as hearts remember
    As long as hearts still care
    We do not part with those we love
    They're with us everywhere.

    – Anon.
  • Beyond The Empty Chair

    Look beyond the empty chair
    To know a life well spent
    Look beyond the solitude
    To days of true content
    Cherish in your broken heart
    Each moment gladly shared
    And feel the touch of memory
    Beyond the empty chair.

    – Catherine Turner
  • But Not Forgotten

    I think, no matter where you stray,
    That I shall go with you a way.
    Though you may wander sweeter lands,
    You will not soon forget my hands,
    Nor yet the way I held my head,
    Nor all the tremulous things I said.
    You still will see me, small and white
    And smiling, in the secret night,
    And feel my arms about you when
    The day comes fluttering back again.
    I think, no matter where you be,
    You'll hold me in your memory
    And keep my image, there without me,
    By telling later loves about me.

    – Dorothy Parker
  • Celebrate

    Weep not for me though I am gone
    Into that gentle night
    Grieve if you will, but not for long
    Upon my soul's sweet flight
    I am at peace, my soul's at rest
    There is no need for tears.
    For with your love I was so blessed
    For all those many years.
    There is no pain, I suffer not,
    The fear now all is gone.
    Put now these things out of your thoughts
    In your memory I live on.
    Remember not my fight for breath
    Remember not the strife
    Please do not dwell upon my death,
    But celebrate my life.

    – Anon.
  • Celebrating A Life-In Words Of One Syllable

    Strange that it should be so, 
    Be born and live and grow,
    Watch weird new worlds go by
    In the blink of an eye.

    Wake up to days of gold, 
    And shake when nights grow cold,
    Hear frogs plop in still ponds
    Fringed by ranks of tall wands, 

    And quake as mad March mirth
    Stirs seeds in new warmed earth
    To birth a Spring, and spray
    White blooms in a green May.

    With day's drum beat is done,
    When dark clouds hide the sun,
    Turn to cast an awed eye
    On gems spilt in the sky. 

    Strange that it should be so-
    This non stop ebb and flow, 
    Fixed in a flux of ghost
    And flint and blood-yet most

    Strange of all, though our din
    Of brave words is lost in
    A deaf wind's rise and fall-
    The breath to say it all.

    – Tony Sims
  • Child of Mine

    ―I‘ll lend you for a little time a child of Mine, He said,
    ― For you to love while he lives and mourn for when he‘s dead.
    ― It may be six or seven years or twenty-two or three,
    But will you, till I call him back, take care of him for Me? 

    ― He‘ll bring his charms to gladden you, and shall his stay be brief,
    You‘ll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.
    ― I cannot promise he will stay, since all from Earth return,
    But there are lessons taught down there I want this child to learn.

    ― I‘ve looked the wide world over in my search for teachers true.
    And from the throngs that crowd life‘s lanes, I have selected you.
    ― Now will you give him all your love, not think the labour vain,
    Nor hate Me when I come to call to take him back again? 

    I fancied that I heard them say: ―Dear Lord, thy will be done!
    For all the joy Thy child shall bring, the risk of grief we‘ll run.
    We‘ll shelter him with tenderness, we‘ll love him while we may.
    And for the happiness we‘ve known, forever grateful stay.

    But shall the angels call for him much sooner than we‘ve planned,
    We‘ll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.

    – Anon.
  • Come To Me When I'm Dying

    Come to me when I'm dying;
    Gaze on my wasted form,
    Tired with so long defying
    Life's ever-rushing storm.
    Come, come when I am dying,
    And stand beside my bed,
    Ere yet my soul is flying,
    And I am cold and dead.

    Bend low and lower o'er me,
    For I've a word to say
    Though death is just before me,
    Ere I can go away.
    Now that my soul is hovering
    Upon the verge of day,
    For thee I'll lift the covering
    That veils its quivering ray. 

    O, ne'er had I thus spoken
    In health's bright, rosy glow!
    But death my pride hath broken,
    And brought my spirit low.
    Though now this last revealing
    Quickens life's curdling springs,
    And a half-timid feeling
    Faint flushes o'er me flings.

    Bend lower yet above me,
    For I would have thee know
    How passing well I love thee,
    And joy to tell thee so.
    This love, so purely welling
    Up in this heart of mine,
    O, hath it e'er found dwelling
    Within thy spirit's shrine?

    I've prayed my God, in meekness,
    To give me some control
    Over this earthly weakness
    That so enthralled my soul;
    And now my soul rejoices
    While sweetly-thrilling strains,
    From low, harmonious voices,
    Soothe all my dying pains.

    They sing of the Eternal,
    Whose throne is far above,
    Where zephyrs softly vernal
    Float over bowers of love;
    Of hopes and joys, earth-blighted,
    Blooming 'neath cloudless skies,
    Of hearts and souls united
    In love that never dies.

    'Tis there, 'tis there I'll meet thee
    When life's brief day is o'er;
    O, with what joy to greet thee
    On that eternal shore!
    Farewell! for death is chilling
    My pulses swift and fast;
    And yet in God I'm willing
    This hour should be my last.

    Sometimes, when day declineth,
    And all the gorgeous west
    In gold and purple shineth,
    Go to my place of rest;
    And if thy voice in weeping,
    Is borne upon the air,
    Think not of me as sleeping;
    All cold and silent there:--

    But turn, with glances tender,
    Toward a shining star,
    Whose rays with chastened splendor
    Fall on thee from afar.
    And know the blissful dwelling
    Where I am waiting thee,
    When Jordan fiercely swelling
    Shall set thy spirit free.

    – Effie Afton
  • Coronach

    He is gone on the mountain,
    He is lost to the forest
    Like a summer-dried fountain,
    When our need was the sorest.
    The fount reappearing
    From the raindrops shall borrow,
    But to us comes no cheering,
    To Duncan no morrow!
    The hand of the reaper
    Take the ears that are hoary,
    But the voice of the weeper
    Wails manhood in glory.
    The autumn winds rushing
    Waft the leaves that are serest,
    But our flower was in flushing
    When blighting was nearest.
    Fleet foot on the correi,
    Sage counsel in cumber,
    Red hand in the foray,
    How sound is thy slumber!
    Like the dew on the mountain,
    Like the foam on the river,
    Like the bubble on the fountain,
    Thou art gone, and for ever!

    – Sir W. Scott
  • Crossing the Bar

    Sunset and evening star
    And one clear call for me!
    And may there be no moaning of the bar,
    When I put out to sea,
    But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
    Too full for sound and foam,
    When that which drew from out the boundless deep
    Turns again home.
    Twilight and evening bell,
    And after that the dark!
    And may there be no sadness of farewell,
    When I embark;
    For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
    The flood may bear me far,
    I hope to see my Pilot face to face
    When I have crossed the bar.

    – Alfred Lord Tennyson
  • Darest Thou Now O Soul

    Darest thou now O soul,
    Walk out with me toward the unknown region,
    Where neither ground is for the feet nor any path to follow?
    No map there, nor guide,
    Nor voice sounding, nor touch of human hand,
    Nor face with blooming flesh, nor lips, nor eyes, are in that land.
    I know it not O soul,
    Nor dost thou, all is a blank before us,
    All waits undream‘d of in that region, that inaccessible land.
    Till when the ties loosen,
    All but the ties eternal, Time and Space,
    Nor darkness, gravitation, sense, nor any bounds bounding us.
    Then we burst forth, we float,
    In Time and Space O soul, prepared for them,
    Equal, equipt at last, (O joy! O fruit of all!) them to fulfil O soul

    – Walt Whitman
  • Death The Leveller

    The glories of our blood and state
    Are shadows, not substantial things;
    There is no armour against fate;
    Death lays his icy hand on kings:
    Sceptre and Crown
    Must tumble down,
    And in the dust be equal made
    With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
    Some men with swords may reap the field,
    And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
    But their strong nerves at last must yield;
    They tame but one another still:
    Early or late
    They stoop to fate,
    And must give up their murmuring breath
    When they, pale captives, creep to death.
    The garlands wither on your brow;
    Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
    Upon Death's purple altar now
    See where the victor-victim bleeds:
    Your heads must come
    To the cold tomb;
    Only the actions of the just
    Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust. 

    – J. Shirley
  • Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
    Because their words had forked no lightning they
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
    Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
    And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
    Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    And you, my father, there on the sad height,
    Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
    Do not go gentle into that good night.
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    – Dylan Thomas
  • Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there, I do not sleep. 

    I am a thousand winds that blow.
    I am the diamond glint on snow.
    I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
    I am the gentle autumn rain. 

    When you wake in the morning hush,
    I am the swift, uplifting rush
    Of quiet birds in circling flight.
    I am the soft starlight at night. 

    Do not stand at my grave and weep.
    I am not there, I do not sleep.
    (Do not stand at my grave and cry.
    I am not there, I did not die!)

     
    – Mary Frye
  • Do Not Weep For Me

    Do not weep for me for I have not gone.
    I am the wind that shakes the mighty Oak.
    I am the gentle rain that falls upon your face.
    I am the spring flower that pushes through the dark earth.
    I am the chuckling laughter of the mountain stream. 

    Do not weep for me for I have not gone.
    I am the memory that dwells in the heart of those that knew me.
    I am the shadow that dances on the edge of your vision.
    I am the wild goose that flies south at Autumns call and I shall return at Summer rising.
    I am the stag on the wild hills way.
    I am just around the corner.

    Therefore, the wise weep not.
    But rejoice at the transformation of my Being.

     
    – Anon.
  • Elegy

    O snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!

    On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

    But on thy turf shall roses rear

    Their leaves, the earliest of the year,

    And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

    And oft by yon blue gushing stream

    Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,

    And feed deep thought with many a dream,

    And lingering pause and lightly tread;

    Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead!

    Away! we know that tears are vain,

    That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:

    Will this unteach us to complain?

    Or make one mourner weep the less?

    And thou, who tell'st me to forget,

    Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

    – Lord Byron
  • Elegy On Thyrza

    And thou art dead, as young and fair
     As aught of mortal birth;
     And forms so soft and charms so rare
     Too soon return'd to Earth!
     Though Earth received them in her bed,
     And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
     In carelessness or mirth,
     There is an eye which could not brook
     A moment on that grave to look.
     I will not ask where thou liest low
     Nor gaze upon the spot;
     There flowers and weeds at will may grow
     So I behold them not:
     It is enough for me to prove
     That what I loved and long must love
     Like common earth can rot;
     To me there needs no stone to tell
     'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
     Yet did I love thee to the last,
     As fervently as thou
     Who didst not change through all the past
     And canst not alter now.
     The love where Death has set his seal
     Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
     Nor falsehood disavow:
     And, what were worse, thou canst not see
     Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.
     The better days of life were ours;
     The worst can be but mine:
     The sun that cheers, the storm that lours
     Shall never more be thine.
     The silence of that dreamless sleep
     I envy now too much to weep;
     Nor need I to repine
     That all those charms have pass'd away
     I might have watch'd through long decay.
     The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
     Must fall the earliest prey;
     Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,
     The leaves must drop away.
     And yet it were a greater grief
     To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
     Than see it pluck'd to-day;
     Since earthly eye but ill can bear
     To trace the change from foul to fair.
     I know not if I could have borne
     To see thy beauties fade;
     The night that follow'd such a morn
     Had worn a deeper shade:
     Thy day without a cloud hath past,
     And thou wert lovely to the last,
     Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
     As stars that shoot along the sky
     Shine brightest as they fall from high.
     As once I wept if I could weep,
     My tears might well be shed
     To think I was not near, to keep
     One vigil o'er thy bed:
     To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
     To fold thee in a faint embrace,
     Uphold thy drooping head;
     And show that love, however vain,
     Nor thou nor I can feel again.
     Yet how much less it were to gain,
     Though thou hast left me free,
     The loveliest things that still remain
     Than thus remember thee!
     The all of thine that cannot die
     Through dark and dread Eternity
     Returns again to me,
     And more thy buried love endears
     Than aught except its living years. 

     
    – Lord Byron
  • Fare Thee Well

    "Fare thee well! and if forever,
    Still forever, fare _thee well_,
    Even though unforgiving, never
    'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. 

    Yet, O, yet thyself deceive not;
    Love may sink by slow decay,
    But by sudden wrench, believe not,
    Hearts can thus be torn away.
    Still thine own its life retaineth,
    Still must mine, though bleeding, beat,
    And the undying thought which paineth,
    Is, that we no more may meet."

     
    – Effie Afton
  • Farewell

    Farewell to thee! but not farewell

    To all my fondest thoughts of thee:

    Within my heart they still shall dwell;

    And they shall cheer and comfort me.

    O beautiful, and full of grace!

    If thou hadst never met mine eye,

    I had not dreamed a living face

    Could fancied charms so far outvie.

    If I may ne‘er behold again

    That form and face so dear to me,

    Nor hear thy voice, still would I fain

    Preserve, for aye, their memory.

    That voice, the magic of whose tone

    Can wake an echo in my breast,

    Creating feelings that, alone,

    Can make my tranced spirit blest.

    That laughing eye, whose sunny beam

    My memory would not cherish less; -

    And oh, that smile! whose joyous gleam

    Nor mortal language can express.

    Adieu, but let me cherish, still,

    The hope with which I cannot part.

    Contempt may wound and coldness chill,

    But still it lingers in my heart.

    And who can tell but Heaven, at last,

    May answer all my thousand prayers,

    And bid the future pay the past

    With joy for anguish, smiles for tears?

    – Anne Bronte
  • Farewell My Friends

    Farewell My Friends
    It was beautiful
    As long as it lasted
    The journey of my life.
    I have no regrets
    Whatsoever said
    The pain I’ll leave behind.
    Those dear hearts
    Who love and care...
    And the strings pulling
    At the heart and soul...
    The strong arms
    That held me up
    When my own strength
    Let me down.
    At the turning of my life
    I came across
    Good friends,
    Friends who stood by me
    Even when time raced me by.
    Farewell, farewell My friends
    I smile and
    Bid you goodbye.
    No, shed no tears
    For I need them not
    All I need is your smile.
    If you feel sad
    Do think of me
    For that’s what I’ll like
    When you live in the hearts
    Of those you love
    Remember then
    You never die.

    – Rabindranath Tagore
  • Farewell, Sweet Dust

    Now I have lost you, I must scatter
    All of you on the air henceforth;
    Not that to me it can ever matter
    But it‘s only fair to the rest of the earth.
    Now especially, when it is winter
    And the sun‘s not half as bright as it was,
    Who wouldn‘t be glad to find a splinter
    That once was you, in the frozen grass?
    Snowflakes, too, will be softer feathered,
    Clouds, perhaps, will be whiter plumed;
    Rain, whose brilliance you caught and gathered,
    Purer silver have resumed.
    Farewell, sweet dust; I never was a miser:
    Once, for a minute, I made you mine:
    Now you are gone, I am none the wiser
    But the leaves of the willow are as bright as wine.

    – Elinor Wylie
  • Fidele

    Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
    Nor the furious winter's rages:
    Thou thy worldly task hast done,
    Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
    Golden lads and girls all must,
    As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
    Fear no more the frown o' the great,
    Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
    Care no more to clothe and eat;
    To thee the reed is as the oak:
    The sceptre, learning, physic, must
    All follow this, and come to dust.
    Fear no more the lightning flash
    Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
    Fear not slander, censure rash;
    Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
    All lovers young, all lovers must
    Consign to thee, and come to dust.

     
    – William Shakespeare
  • Finis

    I strove with none, for none was worth my strife.
    Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:
    I warm‘d both hands before the fire of life;
    It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

     
    – Walter Savage Landor
  • Footprints On The Sands Of Time

    Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
     Life is but an empty dream! –
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
     And things are not what they seem.
     Life is real! Life is earnest!
     And the grave is not its goal;
     Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
     Was not spoken of the soul.
     Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
     Is our destined end or way;
     But to act, that each to-morrow
     Find us farther than to-day.
     Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
     And our hearts, though stout and brave,
     Still, like muffled drums, are beating
     Funeral marches to the grave.
     Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
     Let the dead Past bury its dead!
     Act, — act in the living Present!
     Heart within, and God o’erhead!
     Lives of great men all remind us
     We can make our lives sublime,
     And, departing, leave behind us
     Footprints on the sands of time;
     Footprints, that perhaps another,
     Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
     A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
     Seeing, shall take heart again.
     Let us, then, be up and doing,
     With a heart for any fate;
     Still achieving, still pursuing,
     Learn to labor and to wait.

    – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  • From ‘The Excursion’

    And when the stream that overflows has passed,

    A consciousness remains upon the silent shore of memory;

    Images and precious thoughts that shall not be

    And cannot be destroyed.

    – William Wordsworth
  • Funeral Blues

    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 public doves,
    Let the traffic policemen 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 forever; 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.

     
    – W. H. Auden
  • God Saw You

    God saw you getting tired,
    When a cure was not to be.
    So He wrapped his arms around you,
    and whispered, "Come to me".
    You didn't deserve what you went through,
    So He gave you rest.
    God's garden must be beautiful,
    He only takes the best
    And when I saw you sleeping,
    So peaceful and free from pain
    I could not wish you back
    To suffer that again.

    – Anon.
  • Good-bye, My Fancy!

    Good-bye my Fancy!
    Farewell dear mate, dear love!
    I‘m going away, I know not where,
    Or to what fortune, or whether I may ever see you again,
    So Good-bye my Fancy.
    Now for my last – let me look back a moment;
    The slower fainter ticking of the clock is in me,
    Exit, nightfall, and soon the heart-thud stopping.
    Long have we lived, joy‘d, carress‘d together;
    Delightful! – now separation – Good-bye my Fancy.
    Yet let me not be too hasty,
    Long indeed have we lived, slept, filter‘d, become really blended into one;
    Then if we die we die together, (Yes, we‘ll remain one,)
    If we go anywhere we‘ll go together to meet what happens,
    May-be we‘ll be better off and blither, and learn something,
    May-be it is yourself now really ushering me to the true songs, (who knows?)
    May-be it is you the mortal knob really undoing, turning – so now finally,
    Good-bye – and hail! my Fancy.

     
    – Walt Whitman
  • Goodbye

    I never knew a single word could alter all it touched
    I never knew a word could make me cry
    I never knew our last sad word would break my heart so much
    I never knew.... before we said goodbye.

    – Catherine Turner
  • Greenwood Cemetery

    How calm they sleep beneath the shade
    Who once were weary of the strife,
    And bent, like us, beneath the load
    Of human life! 

    The willow hangs with sheltering grace
    And benediction o'er their sod,
    And Nature, hushed, assures the soul
    They rest in God. 

    O weary hearts, what rest is here,
    From all that curses yonder town!
    So deep the peace, I almost long
    To lay me down. 

    For, oh, it will be blest to sleep,
    Nor dream, nor move, that silent night,
    Till wakened in immortal strength
    And heavenly light!

     

    – Crammond Kennedy
  • Hester

    When maidens such as Hester die
    Their place ye may not well supply,
    Though ye among a thousand try
    With vain endeavour.
    A month or more hath she been dead,
    Yet cannot I by force be led
    To think upon the wormy bed
    And her together.
    A springy motion in her gait,
    A rising step, did indicate
    Of pride and joy no common rate,
    That flush'd her spirit:
    I know not by what name beside
    I shall it call: if 'twas not pride,
    It was a joy to that allied,
    She did inherit.
    Her parents held the Quaker rule
    Which doth the human feeling cool;
    But she was train'd in Nature's school;
    Nature had blest her.
    A waking eye, a prying mind;
    A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;
    A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind;
    Ye could not Hester.
    My sprightly neighbour! gone before
    To that unknown and silent shore,
    Shall we not meet, as heretofore
    Some summer morning
    When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
    Hath struck a bliss upon the day,
    A bliss that would not go away,
    A sweet fore-warning?

    – C. Lamb
  • I Am Standing Upon The Seashore

    I am standing upon the seashore.
    A ship at my side spreads her white
    sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.
     

    She is an object of beauty and strength.
    I stand and watch her until at length
    she hangs like a speck of white cloud
    just where the sea and sky come
    to mingle with each other. 

    Then, someone at my side says;
    "There, she is gone!" 

    "Gone where?"
    Gone from my sight. That is all.
    She is just as large in mast and hull
    and spar as she was when she left my side
    and she is just as able to bear her
    load of living freight to her destined port.
    Her diminished size is in me, not in her. 

    And just at the moment when someone
    at my side says, "There, she is gone!"
    There are other eyes watching her coming,
    and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
    "Here she comes!"
    And that is dying.

     
    – Henry Van Dyke
  • I Carry Your Heart

    I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
    I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) 

    I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
    I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) 

    And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
    Here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of a tree called life;
    which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) 

    And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
    I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

     

    – E. E. Cummings
  • I Wish I Knew

    Grief may feel like the dying of the soul

    while the body still lives,

    but you are alive my friend.

    And they are not,

    nor do they want you to be with them yet.

    They very much want you to live.

    Do not fear the grief you feel,

    it's just love thrashing around,

    looking for somewhere to go.

    So give it somewhere to go.

    – Donna Ashworth
  • I'm Not Gone

    I’m not gone,
    I’m still the same person I was before.
    When you walk down the street,
    I’m one step behind.
    When you watch the television,
    I still sit by your side.
    I listen to your conversations,
    laugh at your jokes
    and smile as you remember the good times.

    I’m not gone,
    I’m the breeze that rustles the trees in our garden.
    When you cry, I put my arm around you,
    and I join in when you sing our songs.
    I sit at the end of your bed at night,
    and when you wake up,
    I’m still there.

    I’m not gone,
    I’m just waiting.
    This is not the end, just a new chapter,
    I dance next to you at parties,
    when you’re happy, I’m happy.
    I sit in the back seat of the car –
    I’m the reflection in the window,
    and I hold open the door.

    I’m not gone.
    So don’t stop being you, carry on.
    If you meet someone new,
    I’ll still hold your hand.
    I’m always with you, by your side.
    I still breathe in your perfume
    and run my fingers through your hair.
    Soon we’ll be together,
    But until then,
    Take care.

    – Emilie Lauren Jones
  • If I Could

    If I could travel back in time
    I'd travel to your side
    Back to the day I said 'I do'
    And you made me your bride
    I'd make my promises again
    And wear the same gold ring
    Then share another life with you
    And wouldn't change a thing

    – Catherine Turner
  • If I Should Go

    If I should go before the rest of you
    Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
    Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice
    But be the usual selves that I have known
    Weep if you must
    Parting is Hell
    But life goes on
    So sing as well.

    – Joyce Grenfell
  • If I Should Go Tomorrow

    If I should go tomorrow
    It would never be goodbye,
    For I have left my heart with you,
    So don’t you ever cry.

     

    The love that’s deep within me,
    Shall reach you from the stars,
    You’ll feel it from the heavens,
    And it will heal the scars.

     

    – Anon.
  • In Hearts

    To live in hearts we leave behind
    Is not to die

     

     
    – Anon.
  • In Memory

    Serene and beautiful and very wise,
    Most erudite in curious Grecian lore,
    You lay and read your learned books, and bore
    A weight of unshed tears and silent sighs.
    The song within your heart could never rise
    Until love bade it spread its wings and soar.
    Nor could you look on Beauty‘s face before
    A poet‘s burning mouth had touched your eyes.
    Love is made out of ecstasy and wonder;
    Love is a poignant and accustomed pain.
    It is a burst of Heaven-shaking thunder;
    It is a linnet‘s fluting after rain.
    Love‘s voice is through your song;
    Above and under
    And in each note to echo and remain
    A red rose is His Sacred Heart,
    A white rose is His face,
    And His breath has turned the barren
    World to a rich and flowery place.
    He is the Rose of Sharon,
    His gardener am I,
    And I shall drink His fragrance
    In Heaven when I die. 

    – (Alfred) Joyce Kilmer
  • Indian Prayer

    When I am dead
    Cry for me a little
    Think of me sometimes
    But not too much. 

    Think of me now and again
    As I was in life
    At some moments it‘s pleasant to recall
    But not for long. 

    Leave me in peace
    And I shall leave you in peace
    And while you live
    Let your thoughts be with the living. 

    – Anon.
  • Intimations of Immortality

    What though the radiance which was once so bright
    Be now forever taken from my sight,
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
    We will grieve not, rather find
    Strength in what remains behind.

     
    – William Wordsworth
  • Irish Blessing

    May the roads rise up to meet you,
    May the wind be always at your back,
    May the sun shine warm upon your face,
    May the rains fall soft upon fields
    And until we meet again
    May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

     
    – Anon.
  • It's Strange

    It's strange we don't appreciate
    The things we see each day
    We never know their value
    Till they're cruelly snatched away
    Things I took for granted then
    Her voice, her smile, her touch
    I always knew I loved her
    But I never knew how much

    – Catherine Turner
  • Let Me Go

    When I come to the end of the road
    And the sun has set for me
    I want no rites in a gloom filled room
    Why cry for a soul set free?

    Miss me a little, but not for long
    And not with your head bowed low
    Remember the love that once we shared
    Miss me, but let me go. 

    For this is a journey we all must take
    And each must go alone.
    It's all part of the master plan
    A step on the road to home. 

    When you are lonely and sick at heart
    Go to the friends we know.
    Laugh at all the things we used to do
    Miss me, but let me go.

    – Christina Rossetti
  • Life

    The World's a bubble, and the Life of Man
     Less than a span:
     In his conception wretched, from the womb
     So to the tomb;
     Curst from his cradle, and brought up to years
     With cares and fears.
     Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
     But limns on water, or but writes in dust.
     Yet whilst with sorrow here we live opprest,
     What life is best?
     Courts are but only superficial schools
     To dandle fools:
     The rural parts are turn'd into a den
     Of savage men:
     And where's a city from foul vice so free,
     But may be term'd the worst of all the three?
     Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed,
     Or pains his head:
     Those that live single, take it for a curse,

     Or do things worse:
     Some would have children: those that have them, moan
     Or wish them gone:
     What is it, then, to have, or have no wife,
     But single thraldom, or a double strife?
     Our own affections still at home to please
     Is a disease:
     To cross the seas to any foreign soil,
     Peril and toil:
     Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease,
     We are worse in peace;--
     What then remains, but that we still should cry
     For being born, or, being born, to die 

    – Lord Bacon
  • Like As the Waves Make Towards the Pebbled Shore

    Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
    So do our minutes hasten to their end,
    Each changing place with that which goes before,
    In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
    Nativity, once in the main of light,
    Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown‘d,
    Crooked eclipses ‗gainst his glory fight,
    And Time, that gave, doth now his gift confound.
    Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
    And delves the parallels in beauty‘s brow;
    Feels on the rarities of nature‘s truth,
    And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow.
    And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
    Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.

     
    – William Shakespeare
  • Little Gidding (from Four Quartets)

    We shall not cease from exploration
    And the end of all our exploring
    Will be to arrive where we started
    And know the place for the first time.
    Through the unknown, unremembered gate
    When the last of earth left to discover
    Is that which was the beginning;
    At the source of the longest river
    The voice of the hidden waterfall
    And the children in the apple-tree
    Not known, because not looked for
    But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
    Between two waves of the sea.
    Quick now, here, now, always
    A condition of complete simplicity
    (Costing not less than everything)
    And all shall be well and
    All manner of thing shall be well
    When the tongues of flame are in-folded
    Into the crowned knot of fire
    And the fire and the rose are one.

     
    – T.S. Eliot
  • Love

    Love means to learn to look at yourself
    The way one looks at distant things
    For you are only one thing among many.
    And whoever sees that way heals his heart,
    Without knowing it, from various ills
    A bird and a tree say to him: Friend.
    Then he wants to use himself and things
    So that they stand in the glow of ripeness.
    It doesn't matter whether he knows what he serves:
    Who serves best doesn't always understand.

    – Czeslaw Milosz
  • Love Lives Beyond the Tomb

    And earth, which fades like dew:
    I love the fond,
    The faithful, and the true.
    Love lives in sleep:
    Tis happiness of healthy dreams:
    Eve‘s dews may weep,
    But love delightful seems.
    Tis seen in flowers,
    And in the morning‘s pearly dew;
    In earth‘s green hours,
    And in the heaven‘s eternal blue.
    Tis heard in Spring
    When light and sunbeams, warm and kind,
    On angel‘s wing
    Bring love and music to the mind.
    And where‘s the voice,
    So young, so beautiful, and sweet
    As Nature‘s choice,
    Where Spring and lovers meet?
    Love lives beyond the tomb,
    And earth, which fades like dew:
    I love the fond,
    The faithful, and the true.

    – John Clare
  • Love Shines Through

    Like a shadow in the moonlight
    Like the whisper of the seas
    Like the echoes of a melody
    Just beyond our reach
    In the shadow of our sorrow
    Past the whisper of goodbye
    Love shines through eternity
    A heartbeat from our eye

     
    – Catherine Turner
  • May the Blessing of Light Be on You

    May the blessed sunlight shine on you
    Like a great peat fire,
    So that strangers and friends may come
    And warm themselves at it. 

    And may light shine out of the two eyes of you,
    Like a candle set in the window of a house,
    Bidding the wanderer come in out of the storm. 

    And may the blessing of the rain be on you,
    May it beat upon your Spirit

    And wash it fair and clean,
    And leave there a shining pool
    Where the blue of Heaven shines,
    And sometimes a star. 

    And may the blessing of the earth be on you,
    Soft under your feet as you pass along the roads,
    Soft under you as you lie out on it,
    Tired at the end of day;
    And may it rest easy over you
    When, at last, you lie out under it. 

    May it rest so lightly over you
    That your soul may be out
    From under it quickly;
    Up and off and on its way to Heaven. 

    And now may Spirit bless you,
    And bless you kindly.

    – Anon.
  • Memories

    Life can never stay the same
    No matter how we try
    Our hands can never stop
    The clock of life from ticking by
    But love remains, unchanging
    In the care of sorrowing hearts
    For as the love of life is stilled
    The love of memory starts

    – Catherine Turner
  • Memories

    A beautiful and happy girl,
    With step as light as summer air,
    Eyes glad with smiles, and brow of pearl,
    Shadowed by many a careless curl
    Of unconfined and flowing hair;
    A seeming child in everything,
    Save thoughtful brow and ripening charms,
    As Nature wears the smile of Spring
    When sinking into Summer's arms. 

    A mind rejoicing in the light
    Which melted through its graceful bower,
    Leaf after leaf, dew-moist and bright,
    And stainless in its holy white,
    Unfolding like a morning flower
    A heart, which, like a fine-toned lute,
    With every breath of feeling woke,
    And, even when the tongue was mute,
    From eye and lip in music spoke. 

    How thrills once more the lengthening chain
    Of memory, at the thought of thee!
    Old hopes which long in dust have lain
    Old dreams, come thronging back again,
    And boyhood lives again in me;
    I feel its glow upon my cheek,
    Its fulness of the heart is mine,
    As when I leaned to hear thee speak,
    Or raised my doubtful eye to thine.

     

    I hear again thy low replies,
    I feel thy arm within my own,
    And timidly again uprise
    The fringed lids of hazel eyes,
    With soft brown tresses overblown.
    Ah! memories of sweet summer eves,
    Of moonlit wave and willowy way,
    Of stars and flowers, and dewy leaves,
    And smiles and tones more dear than they! 

    Ere this, thy quiet eye hath smiled
    My picture of thy youth to see,
    When, half a woman, half a child,
    Thy very artlessness beguiled,
    And folly's self seemed wise in thee;
    I too can smile, when o'er that hour
    The lights of memory backward stream,
    Yet feel the while that manhood's power
    Is vainer than my boyhood's dream.

     Years have passed on, and left their trace,
    Of graver care and deeper thought;
    And unto me the calm, cold face
    Of manhood, and to thee the grace
    Of woman's pensive beauty brought.
    More wide, perchance, for blame than praise,
    The school-boy's humble name has flown;
    Thine, in the green and quiet ways
    Of unobtrusive goodness known. 

    And wider yet in thought and deed
    Diverge our pathways, one in youth;
    Thine the Genevan's sternest creed,
    While answers to my spirit's need
    The Derby dalesman's simple truth.
    For thee, the priestly rite and prayer,
    And holy day, and solemn psalm;
    For me, the silent reverence where
    My brethren gather, slow and calm. 

    Yet hath thy spirit left on me
    An impress Time has worn not out,
    And something of myself in thee,
    A shadow from the past, I see,
    Lingering, even yet, thy way about;
    Not wholly can the heart unlearn
    That lesson of its better hours,
    Not yet has Time's dull footstep worn
    To common dust that path of flowers. 

    Thus, while at times before our eyes
    The shadows melt, and fall apart,
    And, smiling through them, round us lies
    The warm light of our morning skies,
    The Indian Summer of the heart!
    In secret sympathies of mind,
    In founts of feeling which retain
    Their pure, fresh flow, we yet may find
    Our early dreams not wholly vai 

    – John Greenleaf Whittier
  • Mother's Love

    The greatest wonders man can build
    Will all in time decay
    But the wonder of a Mother's love
    Will never fade away 

     
    – Catherine Turner
  • My Journey’s Just Begun

    Don't think of me as gone away
    My journey's just begun
    Life holds so many facets
    This earth is but one
    Just think of me as resting
    From the sorrows and the tears
    In a place of warmth and comfort
    Where there are no days and years
    Think of how I must be wishing
    That you could know today
    How nothing but your sadness
    Can really go away
    And think of me as living
    In the hearts of those I touched
    For nothing loved is ever lost
    And I know I was loved so much

    – Anon.
  • My Mother’s Sleep Is Deep

    My mother‘s sleep is deep as drifts of snow.
    Snow-white the moon which plays with rays like fingers,
    Smoothes and lingers on her white sheet. The slow
    Touch and flow is magic, stirring earth from night
    Towards day, from sleep to life. A tide sheering, soaking.
    Currents below stroke, tug. Atoms disunite
    In dark earth floating free; grains that sleep unseen
    Conjoin. My mother‘s bones are green blades rising
    With the light. They will be snowdrops soon, snow-green

    – Margaret Wilmot
  • Near Shady Wall A Rose Once Grew

    Near shady wall a rose once grew
    Budded and blossomed in God's free light,
    Watered and fed by morning dew
    Shedding its sweetness day and night. 

    As it grew and blossomed fair and tall
    Slowly rising to loftier height,
    It came to a crevice in the wall
    Through which there shone a beam of light. 

    Onward it crept with added strength
    With never a thought of fear of pride,
    It followed the light through the crevices length
    And unfolded itself on the other side. 

    The light, the dew, the broadening view
    Were found the same as they were before,
    And it lost itself in beauties new
    Breathing its fragrance more and more.

    Shall claim of death cause us to grieve
    And make our courage faint or fail,
    Nay, let us faith and hope receive,
    The rose still grows beyond the wall
    Scattering fragrance far and wide,
    Just as it did in the days of yore
    Just as it did on the other side
    Just as it will forever more.

    – Almira L. Frink
  • No Coward Soul is Mine

    No coward soul is mine,
    No trembler in the worlds storm-troubled sphere:
    I see Heavens glories shine,
    And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.
    O God within my breast.
    Almighty, ever-present Deity!
    Life, that in me has rest,
    As I, Undying Life, have power in Thee!
    Vain are the thousand creeds
    That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;
    Worthless as withered weeds,
    Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,
    To waken doubt in one
    Holding so fast by Thine infinity;
    So surely anchored on
    The steadfast Rock of immortality.
    With wide-embracing love
    Thy Spirit animates eternal years,
    Pervades and broods above,
    Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.
    Though earth and man were gone,
    And suns and universes ceased to be,
    And Thou wert left alone,
    Every existence would exist in Thee.
    There is not room for Death,
    Nor atom that his might could render void:
    Thou, Thou art Being and Breath,
    And what Thou art may never be destroyed.

     
    – Emily Bronte
  • Not, How Did He Die, But How Did He Live?

    Not, how did he die, but how did he live?
    Not, what did he gain, but what did he give?
    These are the units to measure the worth
    Of a man as a man, regardless of his birth.
    Nor what was his church, nor what was his creed?
    But had he befriended those really in need?
    Was he ever ready, with words of good cheer,
    To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
    Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,
    But how many were sorry when he passed away?

     
    – Anon.
  • O Captain! My Captain!

    O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
    The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
    The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
    While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
    But O heart! heart! heart!
    O the bleeding drops of red,
    Where on the deck my Captain lies,
    Fallen cold and dead.

    O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
    Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
    For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
    For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
    Here Captain! dear father!
    This arm beneath your head!
    It is some dream that on the deck,
    You’ve fallen cold and dead.

    My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
    My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
    The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
    From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
    Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
    But I with mournful tread,
    Walk the deck my Captain lies,
    Fallen cold and dead.

    – Walt Whitman
  • Of Joy and Sorrow

    Then a woman said, ―Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.‖
    And he answered:
    Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
    And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your
    And how else can it be?
    The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
    Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter‘s oven?
    And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with
    knives?
    When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which
    has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
    When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you
    are weeping for that which has been your delight.
    Some of you say, ―Joy is greater than sorrow,‖ and others say, ―Nay, sorrow is the
    greater.‖ But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
    Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that
    the other is asleep upon your bed.
    Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
    Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
    When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your
    joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

     
    – Kahlil Gibran
  • On Death

    Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
    And he said: "You would know the secret of death.
    But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
    The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
    If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
    For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
    In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
    And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
    Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
    Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor.
    Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
    Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
    For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
    And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
    Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
    And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
    And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

    – Kahlil Gibran
  • On His Own Death

    Death stands above me, whispering low
    I know not what into my ear:
    Of his strange language all I know
    Is, there is not a word of fear. 

     
    – Walter Savage Landor
  • On Pain

    Your pain is the breaking of the shell
    that encloses your understanding. 

    Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
    heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain. 

    And could you keep your heart in wonder
    at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
    would not seem less wondrous than your joy; 

    And you would accept the seasons of your
    heart, even as you have always accepted
    the seasons that pass over your fields. 

    And you would watch with serenity
    through the winters of your grief. 

    Much of your pain is self-chosen. 

    It is the bitter potion by which the
    physician within you heals your sick self. 

    Therefore trust the physician, and drink
    his remedy in silence and tranquility: 

    For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
    by the tender hand of the Unseen,
    And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
    has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
    has moistened with His own sacred tears.

     
    – Kahlil Gibran
  • Our Memories Build A Special Bridge

    When loved ones have to part
    To help us feel were with them still
    And soothe a grieving heart
    They span the years and warm our lives
    Preserving ties that bind
    Our memories build a special bridge
    And bring us peace of mind 

     
    – Emily Mathews
  • Poem Of Life

    Life is but a stopping place,
    A pause in what's to be,
    A resting place along the road,
    to sweet eternity.
    We all have different journeys,
    Different paths along the way,
    We all were meant to learn some things,
    but never meant to stay...
    Our destination is a place,
    Far greater than we know.
    For some the journey's quicker,
    For some the journey's slow.
    And when the journey finally ends,
    We'll claim a great reward,
    And find an everlasting peace,
    Together with the lord

    – Anon.
  • Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi

    Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
    Where this is hatred, let me sow love;
    Where there is injury, pardon;
    Where there is doubt, faith;
    Where there is despair, hope;
    Where there is darkness, light
    And where there is sadness, joy.

    O Divine Master,
    grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
    to be understood as to understand;
    to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive;
    It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
    and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

    – Anon.
  • Precious Flower

    Lord take my tiny precious flower
    Who had no time to bloom
    Lift her gently in your arms
    And find a little room
    In the Heavenly garden
    That you planted high above
    Then care for her and keep her safe
    Within your perfect love
    Find a little corner
    In a quiet sheltered place
    Where she can feel the healing sun
    Caress her lovely face
    Give her the tender caring
    That I can no longer give
    Hold her with your gentle hands
    And let her fragrance live
    The dearest and the loveliest
    Of flowers that ever grew
    My precious gift from
    Heaven I return, dear Lord, to you

    – Catherine Turner
  • Precious Memory

    The rain may wash my pain away
    The wind may dry my tears
    The Summer sun may heal my heart
    And time subdue my fears
    But nothing in the world below
    Or in the Heavens above
    Will ever take away
    The precious memory of your love.

    – Catherine Turner
  • Remember

    Remember me when I am gone away,
    Gone far away into the silent land;
    When you can no more hold me by the hand,
    Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

    Remember me when no more day by day
    You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
    Only remember me; you understand
    It will be late to counsel then or pray. 

    Yet if you should forget me for a while
    And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
    For if the darkness and corruption leave
    A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
    Better by far you should forget and smile
    Than that you should remember and be sad.

    – Christina Rosetti
  • Remember Me

    To the living, I am gone,
    To the sorrowful, I will never return,
    To the angry, I was cheated,
    But to the happy, I am at peace,
    And to the faithful, I have never left.

    I cannot speak, but I can listen.
    I cannot be seen, but I can be heard.
    So as you stand upon a shore gazing at a beautiful sea,
    As you look upon a flower and admire its simplicity,
    Remember me.

    Remember me in your heart:
    Your thoughts, and your memories,
    Of the times we loved,
    The times we cried,
    The times we fought,
    The times we laughed.
    For if you always think of me, I will never have gone.

    – Margaret Mead
  • Remember Me

    Remember me as you pass by
    As you are now so once was I
    As I am now so will you be
    Prepare yourself to follow me

    – Anon.
  • Remember Me - I Will Live Forever

    The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital; busily occupied with the living and the dying. At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.
    When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the bed of life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
    Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.
    Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.
    Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
    Give my kidneys to the one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.
    Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.
    Explore every corner of my brain.
    Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
    Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
    If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weakness and all prejudice against my fellow man.
    Give my sins to the devil. Give my soul to God. If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.

    – Robert N. Test
  • Remembrance

    When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
    I summon up remembrance of things past,
    I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
    And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste
    Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
    For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
    And weep afresh love's long-since-cancell'd woe,
    And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
    Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
    And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
    The sad account of fore-bemoanéd moan,
    Which I new pay as if not paid before:
    --But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
    All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

    – William Shakespeare
  • Requiem

    Under the wide and starry sky,
    Dig the grave and let me lie.
    Glad did I live and gladly die,
    And I laid me down with a will.
    This be the verse you gave for me:
    Here he lies where he longed to be;
    Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
    And the hunter home from the hill.

    – Robert Louis Stevenson
  • She Is Gone (He Is Gone)

    You can shed tears that she is gone
    Or you can smile because she has lived

    You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back
    Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left

    Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her
    Or you can be full of the love that you shared

    You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
    Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

    You can remember her and only that she is gone
    Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on

    You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
    Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

    – David Harkins
  • Softly Woo Away Her Breath

    Softly woo away her breath,
    Gentle death!
    Let her leave thee with no strife,
    Tender, mournful, murmuring life!
    She hath seen her happy day,—
    She hath had her bud and blossom;
    Now she pales and shrinks away,
    Earth, into thy gentle bosom! 

    She hath done her bidding here,
    Angels dear!
    Bear her perfect soul above.
    Seraph of the skies,—sweet love!
    Good she was, and fair in youth;
    And her mind was seen to soar.
    And her heart was wed to truth:
    Take her, then, forevermore,—
    Forever—evermore—

    – Bryan Waller Procter (Barry Cornwall)
  • Songs of the Death of Children (Kindertotenlieder)

    You must not shut the night inside you,
    But endlessly in light the dark immerse.
    A tiny lamp has gone out in my tent –
    I bless the flame that warms the universe.

    – Friedrich Rückert
  • The Best And Most Beautiful Things In The World

    The best and most beautiful
    Things in the world cannot
    Be seen or even touched.
    They must be felt with the heart.

    – Helen Keller
  • The Bluebird

    The Bluebird of happiness sang high above
    Bringing joy to a dark world of strife
    Its soft wings protected and nurtured our love
    And its song was the song of our life
    Now the wonderful world where our Bluebird belonged
    A sad silent world has become
    As that beautiful bird finished singing his song
    And the white Dove of God took you home

    – Catherine Turner
  • The Candle

    A candle burns bright in a window of gold
    A beacon for life's weary heart
    Promising beauty and splendours untold
    Of a world that now keeps us apart
    We travelled the path of our lives side by side
    But this path you walked on your own
    To a world where no pain and no suffering reside
    While I stay in this world alone
    So darling please tend to the candle for me
    And nourish the flame lest it dies
    Till the day when its radiant beauty I see
    And it guides me at last to your side

    – Catherine Turner
  • The Death Bed

    We watch'd her breathing thro' the night,
    Her breathing soft and low,
    As in her breast the wave of life
    Kept heaving to and fro.
    But when the morn came dim and sad
    And chill with early showers,
    Her quiet eyelids closed--she had
    Another morn than ours.

    – T. Hood
  • The Last Invocation

    At the last, tenderly,
    From the walls of the powerful fortress‘d house,
    From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors,
    Let me be wafted.
    Let me glide noiselessly forth;
    With the key of softness unlock the locks – with a whisper,
    Set ope the doors O soul.
    Tenderly – be not impatient,
    (Strong is your hold O mortal flesh,
    Strong is your hold O love.)

    – Walt Whitman
  • The Lord's my Shepherd - Psalm 23

    The Lord is my shepherd, Psalm 23 Funeral Poem

    The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
    He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
    He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
    Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
    thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

    Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil;
    my cup runneth over.
    Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

    – Anon.
  • The Prophet

    For what is it to die?
    But to stand naked in the wind
    and to melt into the sun.
    And what is it to cease breathing?
    But to free the breath from its restless tides,
    that it may rise and expand and seek God, unencumbered.

    Only when you drink from the river of silence
    shall you indeed sing.
    And when you have reached the mountain top,
    then you shall begin to climb.
    And the earth shall claim your limbs.
    Then shall you truly dance.

    – Kahlil Gibran
  • The Sea Spirit

    Ah me! I shall not waken soon
    From dreams of such divinity!
    A spirit singing 'neath the moon
    To me. 

    Wild sea-spray driven of the storm
    Is not so wildly white as she,
    Who beckoned with a foam-white arm
    To me. 

    With eyes dark green, and golden-green
    Long locks that rippled drippingly,
    Out of the green wave she did lean
    To me. 

    And sang; till Earth and Heaven seemed
    A far, forgotten memory,
    And more than Heaven in her who gleamed
    On me. 

    Sleep, sweeter than love's face or home;
    And death's immutability;
    And music of the plangent foam,
    For me! 

    Sweep over her! with all thy ships,
    With all thy stormy tides, O sea!
    The memory of immortal lips
    For me!

    – Madison Julius Cawein
  • The Song Of The Soul
    Oh to be naked!
    My body? Yes, if need be.
    My Soul, more than all else.
    To be as I am. As small or as large as my Soul.
    To speak truth, and scorn man's wrath.
    To laugh at convention.
    To rejoice at freedom.
    To be hated, as well as loved, for Truth's sake.
    To care no more for reputation
    Than reputation cares for me.
    For he who worries about reputation,
    Has a reputation to worry about.
     
    To believe in all things.
    To defy nothing but wrong.
    To spring at the ivory throat of wrong,
    And strangle it with bleeding hands!
    To slay it in public or private.
    To let the blazing sandals of the feet of the Soul
    Burn every evil they tread upon.
    To know that every reformer's life is an avatar.
    That reform is justifiable murder.
    That every reformer bears a cross.
    That the sword, and not the olive-branch,
    Is the symbol of regeneration.
    And that peace and harmony are its triumphs.
     
    To dip into mysteries,
    Artlessly, candidly.
    To regard life as the Soul's sacred trust.
    To know that every longing of the Soul is holy.
    That life, with the Soul predominant,
    Is a noble mosaic, a bewitching arabesque.
    To answer my mother's call to my Soul
    My sweet mother, Earth, who loves me!
    To satisfy any desire I feel,
    So long as I bring happiness to some other.
    Not wanton waste of life, but holy use.
     
    To live as would a child, in its cradle, unashamed.
    For they who feel shame have not grown wise;
    They have lost the purity of innocence!
    To do whatsoever my Soul suggests,
    And do it openly.
    To know that Thought is greater than words.
    That words are but the shining garments of Thought.
    To know that Thought creates.
    That it is greater than the thing it creates;
    That it creates Love;
    That it is higher than Love;
    That it is holier than Love;
    That Love is Thought's first-born.
    Oh for the courage of Truth!
    For the courage of honesty!
    What beauteous nakedness in these!
     
    Only man can blush.
    No other creature knows of shame.
    Why have we wandered so far away
    From simple honesty?
    Who taught us so much that is shameful?
    Or, is it only our vain imaginings?
    Yet, after all, God is not shocked
    At anything he sees.
    Or else, seeing, and feeling shame,
    He would not tolerate what he sees.
     
    To what extent shall I glory in my passions?
    I glory not at all.
    Nor do I reproach myself because of them.
    I glory in normality;
    In strength, and natural desire.
    And when my soul calls on these,
    They shall answer, and not shame me.
    I believe in all that I am.
    I believe in more than I am.
    I believe in all that I should be,
    Because Nature and God believe in me,
    Therefore I am,
    And, therefore, have I confidence!
    Seeing I have been so honored,
    Shall I have less respect for myself than God?
    Shall I pervert and destroy?
    Nay, rather I will conserve.
    I will sacredly cherish.
    Then shall I rejoice in my abundance.
    I shall not know poverty.
     
    What a conservator is God!
    And, yet, the abundance withal!
    The normal soul is ever rich.
    Poverty of soul, or of mind, or of body
    Is a crime.
    Nature punishes every crime.
    Her honesty forbids dishonesty.
    How merciful is nature! How just!
    Nature is very kind.
    Nature and I are happy friends.
     
    Now let me speak my mind to you.
    One assertion of yourself, and you are born.
    One fearless sentence, and you are strong.
    One battle with your darling vice,
    And you become a champion.
    A knowledge of one fragment of Truth,
    And you have entered heaven's kingdom.
    One glance of purity at a human form,
    And you are saved.
    One cry to God, and the answer of the universe.
    One feast of true love, and hunger no more.
    He who strives for happiness is a fool.
    The wise man makes happiness for another.
     
    There is one forum to which all may go,
    And be heard--the Mind.
    One eager auditor--the Soul.
    One kind old servitor--the Body.
    There is more genius undiscovered,
    Than genius to discover.
    Not all of us shall have his song heard.
    Some, who only rehearse the song here,
    Shall sing it in triumph and honor
    In Music's ultimate realms,
    Before all the great singers of Time,
    And before the King of Songs.
    The blackest murder is the killing
    Of the Soul's aspirations!
    Ten thousand deaths do they inflict
    Who strangle the ambition of the Soul!
     
    Let the drawn curtains of the House of the Soul
    Be parted. Others need the sight.
    How sensitive is the Soul! The tenderest dove
    Is an adventurer compared with it.
    The Soul can hear the violets grow!
    It can hear the throbbing heart of God!
    Who would scotch my Soul?
    Who would make me afraid of myself?
    Is a man ashamed when he bathes?
    Of what should he be ashamed?
    Not of what he bathes,
    But of what he does not bathe.
    Tears are the Soul's baptism of cleansing.
    Describe a smile, and you deserve immortality;
    The pleasure of a kiss,
    And you deserve them all;
    The value of a tear,
    And you have knowledge like unto God's!
     
    Love is the sweetest, yet the saddest thing.
    The portal of the heart is emotion.
    Motion and emotion are kin.
    I sob over colors as some men over music.
    Music is the highest expression of any art.
    All art resolves itself at last into music.
    All life seeks harmony.
    Love is the Soul's exquisite vibrations,
    Slow or rapid, sad or gay.
    Love is the Soul at song.
    All sense must have feeling, focus, form.
    The highest form is harmony.
    The fine art of Life is to make
    Another Soul vibrate with a song of joy.
    Technique is as elastic as Mind.
    Perfection is as fixed as Divine Will.
    The azure is alive with motion.
    The Soul is most alive
    When stirred by emotion.
    The message is the thing!
     
    Oh to sing my song that is bursting my heart!
    To sing it, and let others sing it, too,
    Until such time as their own songs
    Shall break the chrysalis that binds them,
    And, on the lightest-feathered wings,
    Go unto God who sings a deathless song.
    Who would not journey thus?
    And with my song liberated,
    Go sauntering on to willing ears,
    Enter in, and be at home,
    Because of kindred life.
    A vesper bell shall toll for the Soul.
    Oh, take me, you who love sincerity and truth!
    Take me, and embrace me. Kiss me!
    I am but a traveler from the sky.
    Home! Home! I journey to the only home I know.
    The only heaven that I care to know.
    There all is love. There all receive all.
    Suspicion cannot flourish there,
    Nor hate breathe one single gasp of life.
     
    Let me begin to undress my Soul before you.
    It is as pure as thought.
    It is as sweet as jessamine.
    It is as melancholy as sorrow.
    It is as merry as joy.
    It is as clean as the running water
    In a cress-fringed brook.
    It is as warm as the human breath.
    It is as open as the eye.
    Yea, it is as clear, too.
    It is as tender as love.
    It is as yielding as the flesh.
    It is as modest as the dew.
    It is as chaste as falling snow.
    It is as true as the stars.
    It is as old as God, Himself.
    It is as young as life.
    It is as far removed from malice
    As is death itself.
    Lo, it lies white and waiting!
    Waiting what? Waiting whom?
    Waiting expression;
    Waiting the one who can interpret it;
    Waiting the one who needs it;
    Waiting the eternal purpose for which it came.
    Who knows its throbbing tenderness? Who cares?
    Oh the pity of onlooking disinterestedness!
    Oh the pain of unrequited hope!
     
    I stand in the presence of the Eternal!
    I am not afraid. He made me thus.
    He admits me to His sacred places.
    He scorns me not;
    Oh men, men, why have ye scorned?
    Lo, some day we shall be striding together
    Through the infinite worlds!
    And you? I shall be helping you to the heights
    That have been revealed to me through fearless thought.
    I will unlock for you the iron doors of Truth.
    You shall see all I see,
    And seeing, be no more afraid than I.
    And you will love me for my very nakedness,
    Just as you will love Truth.
    Oh, love me now! I hunger so.
     
    Let me be naked awhile before the holiest thing.
    For nothing can harm me, but myself.
    See, I am refreshed!
    The shower sends its silver arrows
    Into my warm flesh.
    I am not afraid. I am renewed.
    My Soul lives many lives.
    Each life a thought, each thought a life.
    I am but Thought.
    See, now, how you would revile!
    Revile me then. I shall hear you not.
    A sexual blunder would you make of me!
    Will God have need to breed thought
    In dying protoplasm?
    Thought is not born of flesh,
    And needs not flesh to live.
    It enters, only, into flesh as would light,
    Or more potent still, as love.
     
    I pass into flesh. I am light.
    Oh, let me shine in the dark flesh of eagerness!
    Let me enter into the bosom of ignorance
    And split it with my golden radiance!
    The Soul's dreams are titanic, not satanic.
    Let me kiss Truth once more!
    Let me taste the bliss of wedlock with Truth!
    I would breed thoughts, but not in flesh;
    For they would be but dead, and deadly things.
     
    I would suffice for myself,
    And then for all who need me.
    I make no cross. It is already made for me.
    How gladly do I climb the Hill of the Skull
    To die for Truth, since Truth has lived for me!
    For death is but a passing phase of Life;
    A change of dress, a disrobing;
    A birth into the unborn again;
    A commencing where we ended;
    A starting where we stopped to rest;
    A crossroad of Eternity;
    A giving up of something, to possess all things.
    The end of the unreal, the beginning of the real;
    Not cessation, but continuance;
    Not exit, but entrance;
    Not destruction, but life;
    How wise the plan of death!
    Death sanctifies everything;
    Forgives everything; understands everything.
    There is light in the darkest room.
    There is light in the blackest night.
    There is light in the tomb.
    There is hope in the darkest hour.
    There is hope in the blackest heart.
    There is hope in the dead.
    How rhapsodical is the Song of the Soul!
    It cannot bide restraint or measure.
    Sweeter than melody, loftier than harmony,
    It is music itself!
     
    Come, naked Soul, be never dressed again.
    Go in unto God, more naked still,
    And fear no evil, for He knoweth none.
    Into His presence come, and talk of Life--
    Your life of broken song.
    What notes of joy He will supply!
    He will not rob me of my Soul.
    My Song, my Hope, nor destroy aught.
    He will share His matchless Home with me.
    And why not?
    Did he not grant me here a Palace
    In which to dwell, and shall I doubt
    The value of a Soul to Him
    Who found it worthy of a first solicitude,
    And then a constant care?
    Would He deny me now, when face to face?
     
    Alone with God! How shall I further speak?
    I seem to feel the hush of Time,
    The end of mortal things.
    A thrill, unknown before, possesses me.
    How near to God I seem!
    Some larger purpose holds my view.
    I thought to stay here,
    Resigned, contented, all alive.
    Oh bliss of fuller life!
    Oh the sublime gestures of the Soul!
    My nakedness to me is very sweet!
     
    Return me if thou wilt, O God,
    To earth, or commend me to
    Some other sphere if destiny speak so.
    I feel the thrill of an eternal plan.
    Lo, nothing is lost, not even Time that ceased!
    It was the marker, Truth required for this day.
    How sweet to be with Truth!
    And, yet, still sweeter is it to be Truth, itself!
     
    – Edwin Leibfreed
  • The Star

    A light went out on Earth for me
    The day we said goodbye
    And on that day a star was born,
    The brightest in the sky
    Reaching through the darkness
    With its rays of purest white
    Lighting up the Heavens
    As it once lit up my life
    With beams of love to heal
    The broken heart you left behind
    Where always in my memory
    Your lovely star will shine

    – Catherine Turner
  • The Tombs In Westminster Abbey

    Mortality, behold and fear
    What a change of flesh is here!
    Think how many royal bones
    Sleep within these heaps of stones;
    Here they lie, had realms and lands,
    Who now want strength to stir their hands,
    Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
    They preach, "In greatness is no trust."
    Here's an acre sown indeed
    With the richest royallest seed
    That the earth did e'er suck in
    Since the first man died for sin:
    Here the bones of birth have cried
    "Though gods they were, as men they died!"
    Here are sands, ignoble things,
    Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings
    Here's a world of pomp and state
    Buried in dust, once dead by fate.

    – F. Beaumont
  • The Triumph Of Death

    No longer mourn for me when I am dead
    Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
    Give warning to the world, that I am fled
    From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell;
    Nay, if you read this line, remember not
    The hand that writ it; for I love you so,
    That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
    If thinking on me then should make you woe.
    O if, I say, you look upon this verse
    When I perhaps compounded am with clay
    Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
    But let your love even with my life decay;
    Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
    And mock you with me after I am gone.

    – William Shakespeare
  • Then Joy Stepped In

    Said she, 'I will not live with grief from morrow unto morrow.
    My heart cries out for some relief, 'Good-bye, my little sorrow.'
    She closed the windows of her home and pulled down every blind.
    'I'm going forth, ' she cried, 'to roam. You, Grief, can stay behind.'
    'And I'll be gone the livelong day, expect me back to-night.' 

    Grief wanly watched her go away into the warmth and light;
    With quickened step and brightened eyes she mingled with the throng.
    Instead of pale Grief's moans and sighs she heard Endeavour's song.
    She saw a sister, crossed the road and asked her how she fared:
    Then helped to lift her heavy load and in the burden shared.

    Throughout the day Self was suppressed whilst Service took its place.
    When she returned at night to rest - of Grief there was no trace!
    But Joy stepped forth and sweetly said,
    'May I now be your friend instead?'

    – Wilhelmina Stitch
  • There Is No Night Without A Dawning

    No winter without a spring
    And beyond the dark horizon
    Our hearts will once more sing ….
    For those who leave us for a while
    Have only gone away
    Out of a restless, care worn world
    Into a brighter day

    – Helen Steiner Rice
  • Think of Me

    Don’t think of me in black and grey
    but as forests and the oceans spray,
    lemons ripening in the sun,
    rivers racing then calm and still.
    Remember redness in my cheeks
    after standing in the breeze
    or from long walks in the snow -
    Remember me, the one you know.

    Don’t dream of me in black and grey
    think of me as strawberries,
    and raindrops glistening in the trees.
    Remember orange in my laugh,
    and pansies, pinks and violets.
    Don’t picture me in black and grey,
    that’s not who I was or am today.

    Don’t see me as a ghostly shadow,
    or something that you just imagine,
    don’t see me as black and grey,
    not now, tomorrow or yesterday.
    Remember gold in my kisses,
    turquoise music, silver wishes,
    beating hearts as we cuddled,
    aqua reflections in purple puddles.
    All I ask – remember me,
    who I was and will still be.

    – Emilie Lauren Jones
  • Time Does Not Bring Relief

    Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
    Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
    I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
    I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
    The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
    And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
    But last year's bitter loving must remain
    Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
    There are a hundred places where I fear
    To go - so with his memory they brim.
    And entering with relief some quiet place
    Where never fell his foot or shone his face
    I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
    And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

    – Edna St Vincent Millay
  • Tis Only We Who Grieve

    Tis only we who grieve
    They do not leave
    They are not gone
    They look upon us still
    They walk among the valleys now
    They stride upon the hill
    Their smile is in the summer sky
    Their grace is in the breeze
    Their memories whisper in the grass
    Their calm is in the trees
    Their light is in the winter snow
    Their tears are in the rain
    Their merriment runs in the brook
    Their laughter in the lane
    Their gentleness is in the flowers
    They sigh in autumn leaves
    They do not leave
    They are not gone
    Tis only we who grieve
    If only we could see the splendour of the land
    To which our loved ones are called from you and me
    We’d understand
    If only we could hear the welcome they receive
    From old familiar voices all so dear
    We would not grieve
    If only we could know the reason why they went
    We’d smile and wipe away the tears that flow
    And wait content.

    – Anon.
  • To Sleep

    O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
    Shutting, with careful
    Fingers and benign,
    Our gloom-pleas‘d eyes,
    Embower‘d from the light,
    Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
    O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
    In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
    Or wait the ―Amen,‖ ere thy poppy throws
    Around my bed its lulling charities.
    Then save me, or the passed day will shine
    Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,–
    Save me from curious Conscience,
    That still lords
    Its strength for darkness,
    Burrowing like a mole;
    Turn the key deftly
    In the oiled wards,
    And seal the hushed
    Casket of my Soul.

    – John Keats
  • To Those I Love

    If I should ever leave you whom I love
    To go along the Silent Way,
    Grieve not,
    Nor speak of me with tears,
    But laugh and talk
    Of me as if I were beside you there.
    (I‘d come-I‘d come, could I but find a way!
    But would not tears and grief be barriers?)
    And when you hear a song or
    See a bird I loved,
    Please do not let the thought of me be sad...
    For I am loving you just as I always have...
    You were so good to me!
    There are so many things I wanted still
    To do—so many things to say to you...
    Remember that I did not fear—
    It was just leaving you that was so hard to face...
    We cannot see Beyond...
    But this I know:
    I loved you so -
    Twas heaven here with you!

    – Isla Paschal Richardson
  • To Those Whom I Love & Those Who Love Me

    When I am gone, release me, let me go.
    I have so many things to see and do,
    You mustn't tie yourself to me with too many tears,
    But be thankful we had so many good years.

    I gave you my love, and you can only guess
    How much you've given me in happiness.
    I thank you for the love that you have shown,
    But now it is time I traveled on alone.

    So grieve for me a while, if grieve you must,
    Then let your grief be comforted by trust.
    It is only for a while that we must part,
    So treasure the memories within your heart.

    I won't be far away for life goes on.
    And if you need me, call and I will come.

    Though you can't see or touch me, I will be near.
    And if you listen with your heart, you'll hear,
    All my love around you soft and clear.

    And then, when you come this way alone,
    I'll greet you with a smile and a 'Welcome Home'.

    – Anon.
  • Turn Again To Life

    If I should die and leave you here a while,
    Be not like others sore undone,
    Who keep long vigil by the silent dust.
    For my sake turn again to life and smile,
    Nerving thy heart and trembling hand to do
    Something to comfort other hearts than thine.
    Complete these dear unfinished tasks of mine
    And I perchance may therein comfort you.

    – Mary Lee Hall
  • Untitled

    If I should never see the moon again
    Rising red gold across the harvest field,
    Or feel the stinging of soft April rain
    As the brown earth her hidden treasures yield. 

    If I should never hear the thrushes wake
    Long before the sunrise in the glittering dawn,
    Or watch the huge Atlantic rollers break
    Against the rugged cliffs in baffling scorn. 

    If I have said goodbye to stream and wood
    To the wide ocean and green clad hill,
    I know that he who made this world good
    Has somewhere made a heaven better still. 

    This I bear witness with my last breath
    Knowing the love of God
    I fear not death.

    – Major Malcom Boyd
  • Untitled

    I am standing on the sea shore.
    A Ship sails and spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
    And starts for the ocean. 

    She is an object of beauty
    And I stand watching her till at last
    She fades on the horizon,
    And someone at my side says,
    "She is gone."
    Gone where?
    Gone from my sight,
    That is all. 

    She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars
    As she was when I saw her,
    And just as able to bear her load of living freight
    To its destination. 

    The diminished size and total loss of sight
    Is in me, not in her. 

    And just at the moment
    When someone at my side says, "She is gone,"
    There are others who are watching her coming,
    And other voices take up a glad shout,
    "There she comes,"
    And that is dying.

    – Bishop Brent
  • Untitled Poem on Dying

    Life! I know not what thou art,
    But know that thou and I must part;
    And when, or how, or where we met
    I own to me's a secret yet. 

    Life! we've been long together
    Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;
    'Tis hard to part when friends are dear
    Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; 

    Then steal away, give little warning,
    Choose thine own time;
    Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime
    Bid me Good Morning.

    – A L. Barbauld
  • Untitled Poem To A Lost Love

    At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping,
    I fly
    To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in
    Thine eye;
    And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions
    Of air
    To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to
    Me there
    And tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky!
    Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear
    When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on
    The ear;
    And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison
    Rolls,
    I think, O my love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom
    Of Souls
    Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

    – T. Moore
  • Virtue Immortal

    Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
    The bridall of the earth and skie;
    The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;
    For thou must die. 

    Sweet Rose, whose hue angrie and brave
    Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,
    Thy root is ever in its grave,
    And all must die. 

    Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses,
    A box where sweets compacted lie,
    Thy musick shows ye have your closes,
    And all must die. 

    Onely a sweet and vertuous soul,
    Like seasoned timber, never gives;
    But, though the whole world, turn to coal,
    Then chiefly lives.

    – George Herbert
  • When I Am Dead, My Dearest

    When I am dead, my dearest,
    Sing no sad songs for me;
    Plant thou no roses at my head,
    Nor shady cypress tree:
    With showers and dewdrops wet;
    And if thou wilt, remember,
    And if thou wilt, forget..
    I shall not see the shadows,
    I shall not feel the rain;
    I shall not hear the nightingale
    Sing on, as if in pain;
    And dreaming through the twilight
    That doth not rise nor set,
    Haply I may remember
    And haply may forget.

    – Christina Rossetti
  • When I'm Gone

    When I come to the end of my journey
    And I travel my last weary mile
    Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned
    And remember only the smile 

    Forget unkind words I have spoken
    Remember some good I have done
    Forget that I ever had heartache
    And remember I've had loads of fun 

    Forget that I've stumbled and blundered
    And sometimes fell by the way
    Remember I have fought some hard battles
    And won, ere the close of the day 

    Then forget to grieve for my going
    I would not have you sad for a day
    But in summer just gather some flowers
    And remember the place where I lay 

    And come in the shade of evening
    When the sun paints the sky in the west
    Stand for a few moments beside me
    And remember only my best

    – Lyman Hancock
  • When We Lose A Loved One

    When we lose a loved one
    Our world just falls apart
    We think that we cant carry on
    With this broken heart
    Everything is different now
    You’re upset and you’re annoyed
    Your world it seems is shattered
    There’s such an awful void
    There’s got to be a reason
    And we have to understand
    God made us and at any time
    Hell reach down for our hand
    There might not be a warning
    We won’t know where or when
    The only thing were certain of
    Is well meet them once again.

    – Anon.
  • You’ve Just Walked On Ahead of Me

    And I’ve got to understand
    You must release the ones you love
    And let go of their hand.
    I try and cope the best I can
    But I’m missing you so much
    If I could only see you
    And once more feel your touch.
    Yes, you’ve just walked on ahead of me
    Don’t worry I’ll be fine
    But now and then I swear I feel
    Your hand slip into mine.

    – Joyce Grenfell
  • Your Grief For What You've Lost Holds A Mirror

    Your grief for what you've lost holds a mirror
    Up to where you're bravely working.
    Expecting the worst, you look and instead,
    Here's the joyful face you've been wanting to see.
    Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.
    If it were always a fist or always stretched open,
    You would be paralyzed.
    Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding
    The two as beautifully balanced and coordinated
    As bird wings.

    – Jalaluddin Rumi