25 Funeral Poems

Poems that can provide comfort to be read at a funeral. Funerals are a time of celebration of life, but also a time where we feel sad. Let these poems be ones that offer condolences and hope.

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Funeral Poems By Theme

Train of Life Poem

Memorial Poems

In Loving Memory Poems

Poems About Grandma For Funeral

Poems of Goodbye Death

Popular Funeral Poems

Don't Be Sad
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer

When I die don't be sad
Know where I am and be glad
At the feet of my Savior dear
With feelings of happiness, not fear
In a place where peace does reign
And there is no suffering or pain
So be happy on this day
Remember I love you in every way
I will be watching you from above
And God will bless you with other's love.

I'm Still Here
Poet: Unknown

Please don’t mourn for me
I’m still here, though you don’t see.
I’m right by your side each night and day
And within your heart I long to stay.

My body is gone but I’m always near.
I’m everything you feel, see or hear.
My spirit is free, but I’ll never depart
As long as you keep me alive in your heart.

I’ll never wander out of your sight-
I’m the brightest star on a summer night.
I’ll never be beyond your reach-
I’m the warm moist sand when you’re at the beach.

I’m the colorful leaves when fall comes around
And the pure white snow that blankets the ground.
I’m the beautiful flowers of which you’re so fond,
The clear cool water in a quiet pond.

I’m the first bright blossom you’ll see in the spring,
The first warm raindrop that April will bring.
I’m the first ray of light when the sun starts to shine,
And you’ll see that the face in the moon is mine.

When you start thinking there’s no one to love you,
you can talk to me through the Lord above you.
I’ll whisper my answer through the leaves on the trees,
And you’ll feel my presence in the soft summer breeze.

I’m the hot salty tears that flow when you weep
And the beautiful dreams that come while you sleep.
I’m the smile you see on a baby’s face.
Just look for me, I’m everyplace.

I’m the smile you see on a baby’s face. Just look for me, I’m everyplace.

What Shall I Do
Poet: Mary Clemmer

What shall I do, my friend,
When you are gone forever?
My heart its eager need will send
Through the years to find you never.

And how will it be with you,
In the weary world, I wonder?
Will you love me with a love as true,
When our paths lie far asunder?

The way is short, O friend,
That reaches out before us;
God's tender heavens above us bend,
His love is smiling o'er us.

A little while is ours,
For sorrow or for laughter:
I'll lay the hand you love in yours,
On the shore of the Hereafter.

A Flash
Poet: Unknown

A Flash! you came into my life,
And lo! adown the years
Rainbows of promise stretched across
The sky grown gray with tears.
By day you were my sun of gold,
By night, my silver moon;
I could not from a Father's hands
Have asked a greater boon.

A flash! you passed out of my life -
No, no! your spirit still
Is sun and moon and guiding star
Through every cloud and ill.
As down the rainbow years I go,
You still are at my side;
And some day I shall stand with you
Among the glorified.

Rest In Peace
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy

The turmoil of the world is o'er;
In quiet rest thee now:
Thy generous heart no envy bore,
No stain was on thy brow.

Soft pity was thy constant guest;
Thy bosom, Mercy's throne;
And every place thy presence blest
With heavenly radiance shone.

From One Who Stays
Poet: Amy Lowell

How empty seems the town now you are gone!
A wilderness of sad streets, where gaunt walls
Hide nothing to desire; sunshine falls
Eery, distorted, as it long had shone
On white, dead faces tombed in halls of stone.
The whir of motors, stricken through with calls
Of playing boys, floats up at intervals;
But all these noises blur to one long moan.
What quest is worth pursuing? And how strange
That other men still go accustomed ways!
I hate their interest in the things they do.
A spectre-horde repeating without change
An old routine. Alone I know the days
Are still-born, and the world stopped, lacking you.

Away
Poet: James Whitcomb Riley

I cannot say, and I will not say
That he is dead. He is just away!

With a cheery smile and a wave of the hand,
He has wandered into an unknown land.

And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since he lingers there.

And you - oh, you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return -

Think of him faring on, as dear
In the love of There as the love of Here;

And loyal still, as he gave the blows
Of his warrior strength to his country's foes -

Mild and gentle, as he was brave.
When the sweetest love of his life he gave

To simple things; where the violets grew
Pure as the eyes they were likened to.

The touches of his hands have strayed
As reverently as his lips have prayed;

When the little brown thrush that harshly chirred
Was dear to him as the mocking-bird;

And he pitied as much as a man in pain
A writhing honey-bee wet with rain.

Think of him still as the same, I say;
He is not dead - he is just - away!

Good-bye
Poet: Arthur Franklin Fuller

'Tis time to part — how dear those hours
We've spent in fellowship divine!
Both work, and recreation's flowers,
Made sweet by Friendship's holy wine;
For when our tongues no words have found,
It just seemed good to have you 'round —
The all-wise God alone can know
How hard it is to let you go —
Good-bye, sweet friend.

We've each desired the other's weal —
Sought to bring out the very best
That in us lay; thus both may feel.
All those who have such friends are blest:
Ah yes! 'tis mighty hard to part,
And bitter tears will often start ;
The future's veiled from us indeed —
How much may each the other need!
Good-bye sweet friend.

Not everyone may we well call
By the sacred name of friend — alas!
Few have much depth — when known they pall,
And into kind oblivion pass;
My purpose perfect in all things
Is your sweet faith — such joy it brings;
Your loss an aching void will leave
Reunion only can retrieve:
Good-bye sweet friend.

I'll sadly miss your cheery smile,
The lingering hand-clasp, ready ear,
Your tender sympathy, free from guile,
That understanding, rare and dear;
Yet these not more than that fine trait
Which condoned my failings, ne'er did prate,
Yet sanctioned not; in heaven, I ween,
There's naught to mar or intervene:
Good-bye sweet friend.

loss of a Mother

Our Mother
Poet: Caleb Davis Bradlee

Our mother has found rest with God,
Her life is done below,
And now, held up by staff and rod,
She higher work will know.

Her love, through many years so true,
Will grow still strong and fast;
And she will strengthen and renew
The friendships of the past.

Not lost to us, but gone "above,"
Still watching sweetly near,
Commissioned by a God of love
As guardian angel here.

We will not weep as those who dread
The change that now has come;
We will not call our dear one dead, -
She's found another home!

For know we sure she safe abides
Where all is peace and rest,
And in a world of joy resides,
Among the loved and blest.

In holy faith, to God we give
The one to us so dear;
And, saved by him, she'll ever live,
We have no doubt nor fear.

loss of a child

Our Child Is With God
Poet: Caleb Davis Bradlee

Thou, God, to us a child did'st give,
So beautiful and bright,
We humbly hoped it long would live
Within our loving sight.

We watched his growth, and felt a pride
In all his winning ways;
Inside the home did peace reside,
And happy were our days.

But now we look in vain to find
The one who was so dear!
And it is hard to be resigned,
Because he is not here.

We know, God, he's safe with thee,
And filled with joy above;
And ever by thy wise decree,
Embosomed in thy love.

Not lost to us, but watching near,
Waiting for us to come!
And to our souls forever dear,
A holy precious one!

Pass On Beloved
Poet: Arthur Franklin Fuller

Pass on beloved; as we sadly gaze
Upon thy face so still in its last sleep,
Our minds are filled with thoughts of bygone days,
And though against our wills we bow and weep;

Yet not for thee our bitter tears now fall —
Ah, not for thee this ache in heart and mind —
But for the severed ties — this cruel pall:
That we must wait our turn, and stay behind.

Pass on beloved; though beyond the veil
Our straining eyes in vain will seek to see;
Upon that unknown stream thou'lt safely sail;
Thy captain is the Christ who died for thee;

We would not call thee back, again to take
Thy heavy load of burdens, crosses, pains,
In God's good time, we know that thou shalt wake,
Where sin is not — where Love forever reigns!

Pass on beloved ; words with comfort rife,
To us float down the years His peace to give:
"I am the Resurrection and the Life!
He that believes, though dead, yet shall he live!"

Good Shepherd, keep us in the years to come,
So that we shall attain yon fairer shore,
And may they be found waiting — welcoming Home —
Our dear departed who have gone before!

Pass on beloved, take thy rest —
The world is poorer by thy loss —
But ransomed souls for aye are blest
Who mustered out with Calv'ry's Cross!

I am Happy
Poet: Eloise A. Skimings

"I am happy." Yes, my darling,
Tho' our hearts are bowed with grief;
God has placed thee 'mong His angels
To grant thy wearied soul relief.

"I am happy." Yes - the halo
Always shone around thy brow;
And thine eyes of heavenly azure
Beamed with love on us below.

"I am happy." Mother, father.
Sister, brother, weep not so;
For the God of glory calls me.
"I am happy," - I must go.

For the God of glory calls me. I am happy, - I must go.

Sympathy Quotes

Rest
Poet: Eloise A. Skimings

Tenderly they laid him down to rest
With his strong hands clasped above his breast,
His hands that so faithfully thine have press'd.

But 'tis better so; life's cares are o'er.
He will wait for thee, on the other shore,
When thy children can spare thee — not before.

Departed Friends
Poet: Edgar A. Guest

The dead friends live and always will;
Their presence hovers round us still.
It seems to me they come to share
Each joy or sorrow that we bear.
Among the living I can feel
The sweet departed spirits steal,
And whether it be weal or woe,
I walk with those I used to know.
I can recall them to my side
Whenever I am struggle-tried;
I've but to wish for them, and they
Come trooping gayly down the way,
And I can tell to them my grief
And from their presence find relief.
In sacred memories below
Still live the friends of long ago.

Remember
Poet: Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the handy
Nor I half torn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day,
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

The grave is but a covered bridge, leading from light to light, through a brief darkness. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Let Me Be Remembered By What I Have Done
Poet: H. Bonar

Up and away, like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun,
So let me steal away, gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.

My name and my place and my tomb, all forgotten,
The brief race of time well and patiently run,
So let me pass away, peacefully, silently,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Gladly away from this toil would I hasten,
Up to the crown that for me has been won;
Unthought of by man, in rewards or in praises,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Up and away, like the odors at sunset,
That sweeten the twilight, as darkness comes on;
So be my life a thing felt, but not noticed,
And I be remembered by what I have done.

Yes, like the fragrance that wanders in freshness,
When the flowers that it came from are closed up and gone,
So would I be to this world's weary dwellers,
Only remembered by what I have done.

Needs there the praise of the love-written record,
The name and the epitaph graved on the stone?
The things we have lived for, let them be our story.
We ourselves but remembered by what we have done.

I need not be missed, if my life has been bearing
(As its summer and autumn moved silently on)
The bloom, and the fruit, and the seed of its season,
I shall still be remembered by what I have done.

I need not be missed, if another succeed me,
To reap down those fields which in spring I have sown;
He who ploughed and who sowed is not missed by the reaper,
He is only remembered by what he has done.

Death Is Nothing At All
Poet: Canon Henry Scott-Holland

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 always 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!

Good-By
Poet: Grace Denio Litchfield

We say it for an hour or for years;
We say it smiling, say it choked with tears;
We say it coldly, say it with a kiss;
And yet we have no other word than this,
"Good-by."

We have no dearer word for our heart's friend,
For him who journeys to the world's far end,
And scars our soul with going; thus we say,
As unto him who steps but o'er the way,
"Good-by."

Alike to those we love and those we hate,
We say no more in parting. At life's gate,
To him who passes out beyond earth's sight,
We cry, as to the wanderer for a night,
"Good-by."

When I Am Gone
Poet: Alex Tuer

When o'er my cold and lifeless clay
The last fond messages are read,
And friends and kindred meet to pay
Their last sad tribute to the dead -
Let none who love me here below
Their grief proclaim, or teardrops flow
Because I died.

But rather let my friends rejoce.
And gave my hand for others' good.
That while I lived, I raised my voice
Had dried a tear where'er I could;
Had raised the fallen, cheered the sad,
And made some suffering brother glad
That I had lived.

To One Bereaved
Poet: Wilhelmina Stitch

How beautiful a thing you made of life!
And, think you, Sad-of-Heart, such Beauty goes?
There is an end to ugliness and strife,
But Love dies not, nor withers like the rose.
Think of the Beauty that you found, you two.
You through her soul and she through your own eyes.
Saw you not Love, as year by year it grew,
Forging with strength its everlasting ties?

So when you feel your hurt too deep to bear,
Sweet memories will claim you for their own;
Create for you a vision passing fair -
By it companioned, you are not alone.
Oh! you who made of life a beauteous thing,
Know this to comfort you in darkened days,
This truth to which the grieving heart may cling:
She is alive in many lovely ways.

In every soothing sound, her voice you'll hear;
Wherever beauty is, you'll see her face;
Go where you will, you'll feel her spirit near -
For in your heart she found her resting-place.