POETRY TO DIE FOR !
I AM NOT THERE
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 sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn 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.
(Origin uncertain; commonly attributed to Mary Frye, ca 1932)
DEATH IS NOTHING AT ALL
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped away 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 you used.
Put no difference into your tone;
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always 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 effort,
Without the ghost of a shadow in it.
Life means all that it ever meant,
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute unbroken continuity.
What is death but a negligible accident ?
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.
Nothing is past; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again !
(Henry Scott-Holland, Canon of St Paul's Cathedral)
FOR JOHNNY
Do not despair,
For Johnny-head-in-air;
He sleeps as sound
As Johnny underground.
Fetch out no shroud
For Johnny-in-the-cloud;
And keep your tears
For him in after years.
Better by far
For Johnny-the-bright-star
To keep your head,
And see his children fed.
(John Pudney ca 1940).
Little Shoes
I sit tonight and gaze upon
A row of little shoes
Each pair of them a different size
Each pair of different hues
First walkers for the baby boy
A pretty shade of red
He hasn't walked in them as yet
But won't be long, it's said.
It's little boots for two year old
For shoes he won't leave on
He says he doesn't walk in mud
His boots take him along.
For little Miss of five years old
A pair of neutral shade
A dainty pair of little shoes
With pink and blue inlaid.
For Master Seven straight and strong
A pair of sturdy brown
To walk the long way to the school
And kick footballs around.
Black patent leather for Miss Eight
A very special pair
Bought for her first Communion Day
And chosen with great care.
And they were put on once again
To walk the aisle, you see
'twas at her Auntie's wedding
A flower girl was she
And as I gaze at little shoes
All lined up in a row
I wonder where the little feet
Will in the future go
Please God the little shoes of red
Won't walk away from Him
But walk the straight and narrow path
Although the light be dim
I hope that little two year old
Is never at a loss
To tell his boots where he must go
And not let them be boss
And little Miss of five years old
May walk along the road
Of good and truth and honesty
Whatever be her load
And Master Seven in the game
Of Life that he must play
May be the best and fairest
In his Judge's eyes some day
And little Miss of eight years old
Again may walk the aisle
In shoes of gold or silver
And dressed in bridal style
Perhaps to take her final vows
Perhaps the bride of man
Whatever be her destiny
She'll strive the best she can
When all these feet have followed
The future's beckoning light
I'll sit and dream again once more
Just as I sit tonight
And were I to be granted
Any wish that I may choose
'twould be to see before me
That row of little shoes