You never said I’m leaving
You never said goodbye.
You were gone before I knew it,
And only God knew why.
A million times I needed you,
A million times I cried.
If love alone could have saved you,
You never would have died.
In life I loved you dearly,
In death I love you still.
In my heart you hold a place,
That no one could ever fill.
It broke my heart to lose you,
But you didn’t go alone
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 glints on snow
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Death is Nothing at All
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner
Henry Scott Holland
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
Because I could not stop for Death
Because I could not stop for Death
He kindly stopped for me
The Carriage held but just Ourselves And Immortality.
We slowly drove
He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess in the Ring
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain
We passed the Setting Sun Or rather He passed Us
The Dews drew quivering and Chill
For only Gossamer, my GownMy Tippet – only Tulle
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground
The Roof was scarcely visible
The Cornice in the Ground
Since then ’tis Centuries and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ HeadsWere toward Eternity –
Funeral Poems For The Loss Of Parents
She 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
The Gardener LXI (Peace My Heart)
Let the last touch of your hands be
gentle like the flower of the night.
Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a
moment, and say your last words in
I bow to you and hold up my lamp
to light you on your way.
You’ve Just Walked on Ahead of Me by Joyce Grenfell
This funeral poem is especially suited to moms, our first caretaker.
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
Sonnets Are Full of Love
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death
It felt so cold, the snowball which wept in my hands,
And when I rolled it along in the snow, it grew
Till I could sit on it, looking back at the house,
Where it was cold when I woke in my room, the windows
Blind with ice, my breath undressing itself on the air.
Cold, too, embracing the torso of snow which I lifted up
In my arms to build a snowman, my toes, burning, cold
In my winter boots; my mother’s voice calling me in
From the cold. And her hands were cold from peeling
Then dipping potatoes into a bowl, stopping to cup
Her daughter’s face, a kiss for both cold cheeks, my cold nose.
But nothing so cold as the February night I opened the door
In the Chapel of Rest where my mother lay, neither young, nor old,
Where my lips, returning her kiss to her brow, knew the meaning of cold
Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here.
Think of him still as the same. I say,
He is not dead—he is just away
James Whitcomb Riley
This is a beautiful poem for dad’s funeral.
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
Here he lies where he longed to be;
This be the verse you grave for me:
Home is the sailor, home from sea;
And the hunter home from the hill
Robert Louis Stevenson
Crossing the Bar
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 crost the bar
Lord Alfred Tennyson
Funeral Poems For Siblings
She Walks in Beauty
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place
Sing Me a Song of a Lad That is Gone
Give me again all that was there,
Give me the sun that shone!
Give me the eyes, give me the soul,
Give me the lad that’s gone!
Robert Louis Stevenson
On the Death of Anne Bronte
THERE ‘s little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave ;
I ‘ve lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last ;
Longing to see the shade of death
O’er those belovèd features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me ;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently ;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
Though he, that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you,
Your whole long, gusty lifetime through,
Be gone a while before,
Be now a moment gone before,
Yet, doubt not, soon the seasons shall restore
Your friend to you.
He has but turned the corner — still
He pushes on with right good will,
Through mire and marsh, by heugh and hill,
That self-same arduous way —
That self-same upland, hopeful way,
That you and he through many a doubtful day
He is not dead, this friend — not dead,
But in the path we mortals tread
Got some few, trifling steps ahead
And nearer to the end;
So that you too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
You fancy dead.
Push gaily on, strong heart! The while
You travel forward mile by mile,
He loiters with a backward smile
Till you can overtake,
And strains his eyes to search his wake,
Or whistling, as he sees you through the brake,
Waits on a stile.
Robert Louis Stevenson
I Am Standing Upon The Seashore
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!
Henry Van Dyke
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 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 when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance
Funeral Poems For Grandparents
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well
Funeral Poems For A Friend
Farewell my Friends
It was beautiful
as long as it lasted
The journey of my life
I have no regrets
The pain I’ll leave behind.
Those dear hearts
Who love and care
And the heavy with sleep
Ever moist eyes.
The smile, in spite of a
Lump in the throat
And the strings pulling
At the heart and soul.
The strong arms
That held me up
When my own strength
Let me down.
Each morsel that I was
Fed with was full of love divine.
At every turning of my life
I came across
Friends who stood by me
Even when the time raced by.
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
Think of me
For that’s what I’d like.
When you live in the hearts
Of those you love,
You never die.
Epitaph on my Own Friend
An honest man here lies at rest,
As e’er God with His image blest:
The friend of man, the friend of truth;
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so inform’d:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this
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
Add these poems to a memorial and funeral and give the befitting goodbye that you wanted to. Remember, it is always a good idea to let out those feelings to someone you feel safe with, rather than bottling them up.