Poems for a Young Person’s Funeral

Here are some poems that could be used at the funeral for a young person.

From a grave stone in Sutcombe Churchyard, Devon.

The lovely bud, so young, so fair
Called off by earthly doom,
Just came to show how sweet a flower
In paradise could bloom

Life
By Charlotte Bronte

LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall?

Rapidly, merrily,
Life’s sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly!

What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O’er hope, a heavy sway?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!

Epitaph for a Darling Lady
By Dorothy Parker

All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.

Shiny day on shiny day
Tumbled in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.

Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.

Young Life cut short – for the brother of a dear friend
Unknown

Do not judge a biography by it’s length,
Nor by the number of pages in it.
Judge it by the richness of it’s contents

Sometimes those unfinished are among the most poignant

Do not judge a song by it’s duration
Nor by the number of it’s notes
Judge it by the way it touches and lifts the soul

Sometimes those unfinished are among the most beautiful

And when something has enriched your life
And when it’s melody lingers on in your heart
Is it unfinished?
Or is it endless?

A Child Loaned
By Edgar Guest

I’ll lend you a little child of mine’ he said,
‘for you to love the while he lives and mourn for when he’s dead.
he may be six or seven years or even two or three,
but will you, till i call him back take care of him for me?
he’ll bring his charm to gladen you, and, should his stay be brief,
you’ll have his lovely memories as solace for your grief.

I cannot promise he will stay, since all from earth return, but lessons are taught down there I want this child to learn
I’ve look the wide world over in search for teachers true
and from the throng that crowd life’s lanes I have selected you
now will you give him all you love nor think the labors vain,
nor hate me when I come to call to take him back again?’

I fancied that I heard them say ‘dear lord thy will be done, for the joys the child shall bring the risk of grief we’ll run.
we’ll shelter him with tenderness, we’ll love him while we may
And for the happiness we’ve known for ever grateful stay.
but should the angels call him much sooner than we planned we’ll brave the bitter grief that comes and try to understand.