Poems & Readings

Tis Only We Who Grieve

Tis Only We Who Grieve

by Unknown

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.

And When The Stream That Overflows Has Passed

And When The Stream That Overflows Has Passed

by William Wordsworth, 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.

My Candle Burns At Both Ends

My Candle Burns At Both Ends

by Edna St.Vincent Millay

My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends;
It gives a lovely light!

There Is No Night Without a Dawning

There Is No Night Without a Dawning

by Helen Steiner Rice

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

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

by Mary Frye

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.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die.