20+ Funeral Poems | Pollen Nation

Funeral poems are a traditional part of any ceremony.

Whether you want to read a poem yourself, or need an inspiration for someone’s ceremony, we have collected over 20 beautiful funeral poems you can use.

20+ Funeral Poems

She Is Gone (He Is Gone)

You can shed tears that she is goneOr you can smile because she has livedYou can close your eyes and pray that she will come backOr you can open your eyes and see all that she has leftYour heart can be empty because you can’t see herOr you can be full of the love that you sharedYou can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterdayOr you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterdayYou can remember her and only that she is goneOr you can cherish her memory and let it live onYou can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your backOr you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

David Harkins



Goodnight; ensured release,Imperishable peace,Have these for yours,While sea abides, and land,And earth’s foundations stand,and heaven endures.

When earth’s foundations fled,nor sky nor land nor seaAt all is foundThe content you, let them burn:It is not your concern;Sleep on, sleep sound.

A.E Housman


At that hour

At that hour when all things have repose,O lonely watcher of the skies,Do you hear the night wind and the sighsOf harps playing unto Love to uncloseThe pale gates of sunrise?When all things repose, do you aloneAwake to hear the sweet harps playTo Love before him on his way,And the night wind answering in antiphonTill night is overgone?Play on, invisible harps, unto Love,Whose way in heaven is aglowAt that hour when soft lights come and go,Soft sweet music in the air aboveAnd in the earth below.James Joyce, Irish author, and poet (1882 – 1941)


Music, When Soft Voices Die

Music, when soft voices die,Vibrates in the memory –Odors, when sweet violets sicken,Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,Are heap’d for the belovèd’s bed;And so thy thoughts, when thou art is gone,Love itself shall slumber on.

Percy Bysshe Shelley


Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

Do not stand at my grave and weepI 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 rushOf 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.Mary Frye



In the grey summer garden, I shall find youWith day-break and the morning hills behind you.There will be rain-wet roses; the stir of wings;And down the wood a thrush that wakes and sings.Not from the past you’ll come, but from that deepWhere beauty murmurs to the soul asleep:And I shall know the sense of life re-bornFrom dreams into the mystery of mornWhere gloom and brightness meet. And standing thereTill that calm song is done, at last, we’ll shareThe league-spread, quiring symphonies that areJoy in the world, and peace, and dawn’s one star.

Siegfried Sassoon


Death Is Nothing At All

Death is nothing at allI have only slipped away into the next roomI am I and you are youWhatever we were to each otherThat we are stillCall me by my old familiar nameSpeak to me in the easy way you always usedPut no difference into your toneWear no forced air of solemnity or sorrowLaugh as we always laughedAt the little jokes, we always enjoyed togetherPlay, smile, think of me, pray for meLet my name be ever the household word that it always wasLet it be spoken without effortWithout the ghost of a shadow in itLife means all that it ever meantIt is the same as it ever wasThere is absolute unbroken continuityWhat is death but a negligible accident?Why should I be out of mindBecause I am out of sight?I am waiting for you for an intervalSomewhere very nearJust around the cornerAll is well.Nothing is past; nothing is lostOne brief moment and all will be as it was beforeHow we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Canon Henry Scott-Holland


Departed comrade

Departed comrade! Thou, redeemed from painShall sleep the sleep that kings desire in vain:Not thine the sense of lossBut lo, for us the voidThat never shall be filled again.Not thine but ours the grief.All pain is fled from thee.And we are weeping in thy stead;Tears for the mourners who are left behindPeace everlasting for the quiet dead.

Lucretius, Roman epic poet , and philosopher (ca 94 – 55BC)


We Remember Him (We Remember Her)

When we are weary and in need of strength,When we are lost and sick at heart,We remember him.When we have a joy we crave to shareWhen we have decisions that are difficult to makeWhen we have achievements that are based on hisWe remember him.At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winterAt the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring,We remember him.At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summerAt the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn,We remember him.At the rising of the sun and at its setting,We remember him.As long as we live, he too will liveFor he is now a part of us,As we remember him.

Adapted from the Yizkor Service


The Noble Nature

It is not growing like a treein bulk, doth make Man better be;or standing long an oak three hundred years,to fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere;

A lily of a dayis fairer in May,although it fall and dies that night-It was the plant and flower of Light.In small proportions we just beauties see:and in short measures life may perfect be.

Ben Jonson


Fight the good fight with all thy might

FIGHT the good fight with all thy might,Christ is thy strength, and Christ thy right;Lay hold on life, and it shall beThe joy and crown eternally.Run the straight race through God’s good grace,Lift up thine eyes, and seek his face;Life with its way before us lies,Christ is the path, and Christ the prize.Cast care aside, upon thy GuideLean, and his mercy will provide;Lean, and the trusting soul will proveChrist is its life, and Christ its love.Faint not nor fear, his arms are near,He changeth not, and thou art dear;Only believe, and thou shalt seeThat Christ is all in all to thee.

John Monsell, Rector of St Nicholas, Guildford (1811 – 1875)


Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the roadAnd the sun has set for meI want no rites in a gloom filled the roomWhy cry for a soul set free?Miss me a little, but not for longAnd not with your head bowed lowRemember the love that once we sharedMiss me, but let me go.For this is a journey we all must takeAnd each must go alone.It’s all part of the master planA step on the road to home.When you are lonely and sick at heartGo the friends we know.Laugh at all the things we used to doMiss me, but let me go.When I am dead my dearestSing no sad songs for mePlant thou no roses at my headNor shady cypress treeBe the green grass above meWith showers and dewdrops wetAnd if thou wilt rememberAnd if thou wilt, forget.I shall not see the shadows,I shall not fear the rain;I shall not hear the nightingaleSing on as if in pain;And dreaming through the twilightThat doth not rise nor set,Haply I may remember,And haply may forget.

Christina Rosetti


I Loved Her Like the Leaves

I loved her like the leaves,The lush leaves of springThat weighed the branches of the willowsStanding on the jutting bankWhere we two walked togetherWhile she was of this world.My life was built on her;But man cannot floutThe laws of this world.

To the wide fields where the heat haze shimmersHidden in a white cloud,White as white mulberry scarf,She soared like the morning birdHidden from our world like the setting sun.The child she left as tokenWhimpers, begs for food; but alwaysFinding nothing that I might give,Like birds that gather rice-heads in their beaks,I pick him up and clasp him in my arms.By the pillows where we lay,My wife and I, as one,The daylight I pass lonely till the dusk,The black night I lie sighing till the dawn.I grieve, yet know no remedy:I pine, yet have no way to meet her.

Kakinonoto Hitomaro


Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let airplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;For nothing now can ever come to any good.

WH Auden, poet (1907 – 1973)



Farewell to Thee! But not farewellTo all my fondest thoughts of Thee;Within my heart they still shall dwellAnd they shall cheer and comfort me.Life seems more sweet that Thou didst liveAnd men more true Thou wert one;Nothing is lost that Thou didst give,Nothing destroyed that Thou hast done.

Anne Bronte, novelist, poet (1820 – 1849)



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 dayYou tell me of our future that you planned:Only remember me; you understandIt will be late to counsel then or pray.Yet if you should forget me for a whileAnd afterwards remember, do not grieve:For if the darkness and corruption leaveA vestige of the thoughts that once I had,Better by far you should forget and smileThan that you should remember and be sad.

Christina Rosetti


No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mineNo trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphereI see Heaven’s glories shineAnd Faith shines equal arming me from Fear

O God within my breastAlmighty ever-present DeityLife, that in me hast rest,As I Undying Life, have power in Thee

Vain are the thousand creedsThat move men’s hearts, unutterably vain,Worthless as withered weedsOr idlest froth amid the boundless main

To waken doubt in oneHolding so fast by thy infinity,So surely anchored onThe steadfast rock of Immortality.

With wide-embracing loveThy spirit animates eternal yearsPervades and broods above,Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates and rears

Though earth and moon were goneAnd suns and universes ceased to beAnd Thou wert left aloneEvery Existence would exist in thee

There is not room for DeathNor atom that his might could render voidSince thou art Being and BreathAnd what thou art may never be destroyed.

Emily Bronte


He has achieved success

He has achieved success who has lived well,laughed often and loved much:who has enjoyed the trust of pure women,the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children;who has filled the niche and accomplished his task;who has left the world better than he found it;whether by an improved poppy,a perfect poem, or a rescued soul;who has never lacked appreciation of Earth’s beautyor failed to express it;who has always looked for the best in othersand given the best he had.Whose life was an inspiration;Whose memory a benediction.

Bessie A Stanley, American poet


When I die I want your hands on my eyes

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:I want the light and the wheat of your beloved handsto pass their freshness over me one more timeto feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,for you to smell the sea that we loved togetherand for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on livingand as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,so that my shadow passes through your hair,so that they know by this the reason for my song.

Pablo Neruda (translated from Spanish)


Peace, My Heart

Peace, my heart, let the time forthe parting be sweet.Let it not be a death but completeness.Let love melt into memory and paininto songs.Let the flight through the sky endin the folding of the wings over thenest.Let the last touch of your hands begentle like the flower of the night.Stand still, O Beautiful End, for amoment, and say your last words insilence.I bow to you and hold up my lampto light you on your way.

Rabindranath Tagore


The Garden of Proserpine

We are not sure of sorrow,And joy was never sure;To-day will die to-morrow;Time stoops to no man’s lure;

And love, grown faint and fretful,With lips but half regretfulSighs, and with eyes forgetfulWeeps that no loves endure.

From too much love of living,From hope and fear set free,We thank with brief thanksgivingWhatever gods may be

That no life lives for ever;That dead men rise up never;That even the weariest riverWinds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,Nor any change of light:Nor sound of waters shaken,Nor any sound or sight:

Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,Nor days nor things diurnal;Only the sleep eternalIn an eternal night.

Algernon Charles Swinburne


sources: naturalendings.co.uk,  stoneletters.com, lastingpost.com


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