Another Royal Marine KIA 06/03/2007

#9
I came across this poem yesterday - I was looking through some poetry books in my Mother's house. She had bookmarked this one, probably some time ago. It's for everyone facing the sadness of bereavement whatever the cause:

Do not stand at my grave and weep

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 sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in clircled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there I did not die.



Anon
 
#11
RIP brave Royal.

To follow on from JC, I'd like to add...

Funeral Blues (Song IX / from Two Songs for Hedli Anderson) by Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crêpe 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.
 

Salty-Dog

Lantern Swinger
#15
Sometime at eve when the tide is low,
I shall slip my mooring and sail away
With no response to the friendly hail
Of kindred craft in the busy bay.

In the silent hush of the twilight pale
When the night stoops down to embrace the day
And the voices call in the water’s flow….
Sometime at eve when the tide is low
I shall slip my mooring and sail away.

Through the purpling shadows that darkly trail
O’er the ebbing tide of the Unknown Sea,
I shall fare me away, with a dip of sail
And ripple of waters to tell the tale
Of a lonely voyager, sailing away
To the Mystic Isles where at anchor lay
The crafts of those who have sailed before
O’er the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore.

A few who have watched me sail away
Will miss my craft from the busy bay;
Some friendly barques that were anchored near,
Some loving souls that my heart held dear,
In silent sorrow will drop a tear—

But I shall have peacefully furled my sail
In moorings sheltered from storm or gale
And greeted the friends who have sailed before
O’er the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore.

Elizabeth Clark Hardy
b. New York State 1849 d. Wisconsin 1929


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
RIP Royal
 

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