Funeral Poems: A Guide for Every Farewell

There is no death! The stars go down

To rise upon some other shore,

And bright in heaven's jewelled crown

They shine forevermore.

There is no death! The dust we tread

Shall change beneath the summer showers

To golden grain or mellow fruit,

Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

The granite rocks disorganize

To feed the hungry moss they bear;

The forest leaves drink daily life

From out the viewless air.

There is no death! The leaves may fall,

The flowers may fade and pass away—

They only wait, through wintry hours,

The warm, sweet breath of May.

There is no death! The choicest gifts

That heaven hath kindly lent to earth

Are ever first to seek again

The country of their birth.

And all things that for growth or joy

Are worthy of our love or care,

Whose loss has left us desolate,

Are safely garnered there.

Though life becomes a desert waste,

We know it will be verdant soon;

The grave, though now a dreary place,

Shall be a sweet and blessed boon.

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.

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 planned:

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.

She is just as large in mast, hull, and spar

As she was when she left my side,

And just as able to bear her load

Of living freight to the port of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone 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!"

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 planned:

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.

She is just as large in mast, hull, and spar

As she was when she left my side,

And just as able to bear her load

Of living freight to the port of destination.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone 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!"

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 tho' 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 cross'd the bar.

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 birth.

Not, what was his station? But had he a heart?

How did he play his God-given part?

Was he ever ready with a word of good cheer,

To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?

Your gentle soul has found its rest,

In fields of peace, among the blessed.

No more to suffer, hurt or cry,

You dwell in love, beyond the sky.

We'll hold your memory, bright and clear,

With every heartbeat, feel you near.

Though we are parted, we're not undone—

Your light remains, a rising sun.

Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky,

Hundreds of shells on the shore together,

Hundreds of birds that go singing by,

Hundreds of bees in the sunny weather.

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn,

Hundreds of lambs in the purple clover,

Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn,

But only one mother the wide world over.

A mother’s love is something

That no one can explain—

It is made of deep devotion

And of sacrifice and pain.

It is endless and unselfish

And enduring come what may—

For nothing can destroy it

Or take that love away.

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 tho' 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 cross'd the bar.