Then it will not be the great achievement that will matter, nor, how much money or possessions a person has amassed. At the moment of death a person's character stands out happy for the person who has forged it well over the years. So it is when a person dies the essence of that person is revealed. The grain alone matters - sacks of pure gold. At harvest time the essence is revealed - the straw and chaff are set aside, they have done their job. There is no longer any room for pretence. I took up a handful of grain and let it slip flowing through my fingers, and I said to myself The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause who at best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat. It is not the critic that counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. Not what did the sketch in the newspaper say,īut how many were sorry when he passed away? Was he ever ready, with words of good cheer, Nor what was his church, nor what was his creed?īut had he befriended those really in need? Of a man as a man, regardless of his birth. Not, what did he gain, but what did he give? Not, how did he die, but how did he live? Nor, when I'm gone, speak in a Sunday voice,īut be the usual selves that I have known. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
One brief moment and all will be as it was before Let my name be ever the household word that it always was Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrowĪt the little jokes we always enjoyed together Speak to me in the easy way you always used I have only slipped away into the next room Than that you should remember and be sad. You tell me of our future that you planned:Ī vestige of the thoughts that once I had,īetter by far you should forget and smile When you can no more hold me by the hand, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood įor nothing now can ever come to any good. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. He was my North, my South, my East and West, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,īring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, To know that even one life has breathed easier To have played and laughed with enthusiasm To earn the approbation of honest criticsĪnd to endure the betrayal of false friends To win the respect of intelligent persons Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on You can remember her and only that she is gone Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
#When i am dead cry for me a little full#
Or you can be full of the love that you shared Your heart can be empty because you can't see her Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back There are of course hundreds of poems to choose from, you may have your own favourite, or wish to write something new, or have something especially new written, but if inspiration is alluding you, here we have a suitable selection to help you get started. Funeral Poetry Whether religious or non religious, the reading of a poem or verse at the funeral can be a very powerful and moving sentiment, especially if read by a friend or family member.
0 kommentar(er)
