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10 Best Poems for Funerals

by Susan Jarvis Bryant

The right poem at a funeral service can make that final farewell extra special, but choosing the right one is not an easy task. I have chosen the poems below for their beauty and their variety, which is why they are not in any particular order. The occasion may be mournful, celebratory, traditional, or unique. I hope your ideal funeral poem shines in the list below. If you feel I left one out, put it in the comments section below.

You will notice a brevity in the works I have selected. Having worked at a funeral home and witnessed so many funerals, it is generally the case that less is more in terms of poetry. What comes through in a poem read at a funeral are the heartfelt emotions of the reader (and probably the selector of the poem) foremost, and the poet’s specific words and insight secondarily. An introduction as to why you selected the poem, a brief reading of it, and a simple “thank you” at the end are a perfect way to express one’s feelings and be a part of the ceremony.

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1. “Loss” by Winifred M. Letts (1882-1972)

Winifred Letts was born in England and had a career as a playwright and novelist. She published her first poetry collection at the age of 31. This tender and sensual poem oozes with tangible aspects of grief… a sadness those who have loved fiercely will relate to.

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Loss

In losing you I lost my sun and moon
And all the stars that blessed my lonely night.
I lost the hope of Spring, the joy of June,
The Autumn’s peace, the Winter’s firelight.
I lost the zest of living, the sweet sense
Expectant of your step, your smile, your kiss;
I lost all hope and fear and keen suspense
For this cold calm, sans agony, sans bliss.
I lost the rainbow’s gold, the silver key
That gave me freedom of my town of dreams;
I lost the path that leads to Faërie
By beechen glades and heron-haunted streams.
I lost the master word, dear love, the clue
That threads the maze of life when I lost you.

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.2. “Crossing the Bar” by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Alfred Lord Tennyson was the English Poet Laureate during much of Queen Victoria’s reign. One of his best-known poems is “Charge of the Light Brigade.” “Crossing the Bar” is a metaphorical meditation on death—a crossing of the sandbar between a coastal area and the wide ocean. It speaks of a peaceful journey of faith without fear.

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Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have cross’d the bar.

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3. “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost (1974-1963)

Robert Frost was an American poet whose work was initially published in England before publication in the United States. His poems include “The Road Less Traveled.” Frost often uses rural scenes to contemplate our existence. “Nothing Gold Can Stay” speaks of the transience of youth and beauty in words that encourage us all to make the most of our lives, while we can. This may be the ideal poem for someone who has died before their time.

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

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4. “Epitaph on My Own Friend by Robert Burns” (1759-1796)

poetry/robert burns/burns night

Robert Burns was a Scottish poet and lyricist celebrated worldwide for works such as “Auld Lang Syne” and “A Red, Red Rose.” “Epitaph on My Own Friend” is a tribute to William Muir—a friend of Burns and his father. It highlights the value of friendship and the importance of a life well lived. Although Burns called the poem an epitaph, it is perfect for the funeral of a cherished friend.

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Epitaph on My Own Friend

An honest man here lies at rest,
As e’er God with His image blest:
The friend of man, the friend of truth;
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d,
Few heads with knowledge so inform’d:
If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

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5. “The Departed” by John Banister
Tabb (1845-1909)

John Banister Tabb was an ordained priest from Virginia. Father Tabb’s writings were widely published in popular and prestigious magazines, including Harper’s Monthly, The Atlantic Monthly, and The Cosmopolitan. He was also a published poet. “The Departed” is a short poem that says so much in its brevity about the connection between the living and the dead… and it says it with grace and beauty.

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The Departed

They cannot wholly pass away
How far soe’er above;
Nor we, the lingerers, wholly stay
Apart from those we love:
For spirits in eternity,
As shadows in the sun,
Reach backward into Time, as we,
Like lifted clouds, reach on.

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6. “Miss Me, but Let Me Go” ~ Unknown

This poem has been almost universally attributed to Christina Georgina Rossetti, an English writer whose poems include “Goblin Market” and “Remember.” It’s also been attributed to Henry Scott Holland, a priest at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, and Edgar A. Guest, a British-born American poet who was the Poet Laureate of Michigan. The origin of “Let Me Go” may be unknown, but I do know that it has uplifting and celebratory qualities that speak of death as the natural progression of “a journey we all must take.”  This may be a good poem for those preplanning their own funeral service. It speaks to those left behind with wonder, warmth, and wisdom.

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Miss Me, but Let Me Go

When I come to the end of the road
__And the sun has set for me,
I want no rites in a gloom-filled room,
__Why cry for a soul set free!
Miss me a little—but not for long
__And not with your head bowed low.
Remember the love that we once shared,
__Miss me, but let me go.
For this is a journey we all must take
__And each must go alone;
It’s all a part of the Master’s plan
__A step on the road to home.
When you are lonely and sick at heart
__Go to the friends we know,
And bury your sorrows in doing good deeds.
__Miss me, but let me go.

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7. “Consolation” by Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

Robert Louis Stevenson was a Scottish novelist, essayist, poet, and travel writer. He is known for works such as Treasure Island, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Kidnapped, and A Child’s Garden of Verses. In “Consolation” the bereaved are encouraged by the thought that all are traveling on the same path with our loved ones in front waiting with a warm welcome when we arrive at our destination—a reassuring thought.

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Consolation

Though he, that ever kind and true,
Kept stoutly step by step with you,
Your whole long, gusty lifetime through,
__Be gone a while before,
Be now a moment gone before,
Yet, doubt not, soon the seasons shall restore
____Your friend to you.

He has but turned the corner—still
He pushes on with right good will,
Through mire and marsh, by heugh and hill,
__That self-same arduous way—
That self-same upland, hopeful way,
That you and he through many a doubtful day
____Attempted still.

He is not dead, this friend—not dead,
But in the path we mortals tread
Got some few, trifling steps ahead
__And nearer to the end;
So that you too, once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend
____You fancy dead.

Push gaily on, strong heart! The while
You travel forward mile by mile,
He loiters with a backward smile
__Till you can overtake,
And strains his eyes to search his wake,
Or whistling, as he sees you through the brake,
____Waits on a stile.

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8. “Happy the Man” by John Dryden (1631–1700)

John Dryden (a second cousin once removed of Jonathan Swift) was appointed the first Poet Laureate of England in 1668. “Happy the Man” says with elation that to face death with no regrets is the way to go – an enviable legacy, Frank Sinatra’s My-Way style.

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Happy the Man

Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or shine
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

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9. “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden (1907-1973)

Wystan Hugh Auden was a British-American poet. Auden’s poetry was noted for its stylistic and technical merits. He published his first book of poems at the age of 23. “Funeral Blues” became a firm favorite of mine after watching the film Four Weddings and a Funeral. The film made the poem a popular choice for funerals for very good reason—it captures the feeling of heartrending loss perfectly. If love is measured in grief, this poem is brimming with love.

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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 drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling 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.

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10. “Music When Soft Voices Die”
by Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)

Percy Bysshe Shelley (author of “Ozymandias” and husband of Frankenstein writer Mary Shelley) was a British writer—one of the major English Romantic poets. “Music When Soft Voices Die” was not published until two years after Shelley drowned at the age of 30. It is a brief lyrical piece that captures the very essence of one’s beloved like a song lingering in the memory, to replay in those wistful moments. Its mellifluous quality makes it an ideal poem to read aloud.

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Music When Soft Voices Die

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

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

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Susan Jarvis Bryant has poetry published on Lighten Up Online, Snakeskin, Light, Sparks of Calliope, and Expansive Poetry Online. She also has poetry published in TRINACRIA, Beth Houston’s Extreme Formal Poems anthology, and in Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets in the UK). Susan is the winner of the 2020 International SCP Poetry Competition, and has been nominated for the 2022 Pushcart Prize.

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The Society of Classical Poets does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or commentary.


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25 Responses

    • Roy Eugene Peterson

      I enjoyed the poems Susan shared.
      James, here are some “Epitaphs of Great Writers published from me, May 3, 2021. Included are some of my own.

      Prologue
      Both authors well and lesser known
      Write their own epitaphs for stone.
      What fascinations fill my mind
      To think what they left us to find.

      Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

      Stevenson’s Requiem
      Under the wide and starry sky
      Dig the grave and let me lie:
      Glad did I live and gladly die,
      __—And I laid me down with a will.

      This be the verse you ’grave for me.
      Here he lies where he long’d to be;
      Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
      __—And the hunter home from the hill.

      William Shakespeare (Bapt. 26 April 1564 – 23 April 1616)
      Good friend for Jesus sake forbear,
      To dig the dust enclosed here.
      Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
      And cursed be he that moves my bones.

      Joseph Conrad (1857-1924)
      Conrad, who served in the British navy before he became a novelist took his epitaph from Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene:

      Sleep after toile, port after stormie seas,
      Ease after warre, death after life, does greatly please.

      John Donne (1572-1631)
      Reader, I am to let thee know,
      Donne’s body only lies below;
      For could the grave his soul comprise,
      Earth would be richer than the skies.

      Alexander Pope (21 May 1688 – 30 May 1744)
      Heroes and Kings your distance keep;
      In peace let one poor poet sleep,
      Who never flattered folks like you;
      Let Horace blush and Virgil too.

      Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953)
      When I am dead, I hope it may be said:
      “His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.”

      Clive Blake, Cornish Poet
      Epitaph for Charlotte Dymond

      This flower cut,
      Whilst in full bloom,
      Now rests in peace,
      Within this tomb.

      Emily Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)
      Step lightly on this narrow spot!
      The broadest land that grows
      Is not so ample as the breast
      These emerald seams enclose.

      Step lofty; for this name is told
      As far as cannon dwell,
      Or flag subsist, or fame export
      Her deathless syllable.

      Final Thought
      Did we succeed or simply fail?
      An epitaph presents a tale.
      Forgotten poet? Or published giant?
      Just write your own. Don’t be defiant.

      Postscript: The Compiler’s (Roy Peterson) Epitaph Possibilities
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      Epitaph 1
      I have fought a good fight;
      I have finished my race.
      I have kept to my faith
      By His power and grace (2 Timothy 4:7)

      Epitaph 2
      Here lies Roy between two stones.
      His soul is gone; he left these bones.

      Epitaph 3
      Here lies Roy becoming dust.
      His soul in heaven in God’s trust.

      Epitaph 4
      Returned to sender.

      Reply
      • James A. Tweedie

        I like your #4, Roy. Straight and to the point. The Dickinson quote is also timely sad today would have been her 193rd birthday.

        My own is taken from the final words of the old actor in the musical, The Fantastiks (a part I have played on stage): “Remember me—in light!”

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Thank you very much for your interesting and inspirational response, Roy. I especially like your own creations. #4 has me nodding and smiling. I’m with James Tweedie on that one.

    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Thank you for your appreciation, James… and for your suggestion – a challenge that may well result in a few smiles.

      Reply
  2. fred schueler

    Here’s a sonnet I wrote for the young daughter of neighbours who was murdered by a troubled classmate she had been trying to help. The metaphors are Ontario geography, our flat “Smiths Falls Limestone Plain,” the huge Ouimet Canyon on the Canadian Shield north of Lake Superior, and Indian Creek on the Bruce Peninsula, where a quite limestone-plain creek abruptly goes over the escarpment, and where I once found a dead Beaver that had gone over the falls.

    MELANIE DESROCHE

    As dull as Wolford Township in July,
    Time lies, a sleepy Ordovician plain.
    No awesome scarps or gorges drain the Hanlan Marsh,
    Our lives are Smith Falls limestone: all the same.
    Not Ouimet Canyons’ empty hollow view
    Of distant walls, block-broken diabase,
    Where deglaciation’s giant gasket blew
    And tundra relicts cling near summer ice.
    Indian Creek flows slow above its falls
    Reflects fat Holsteins; Willows drink
    Through tangled roots, the nesting Phoebe calls:
    Then plunges in white violence into the chasm past the brink.

    Wrens sing their hearts out all day long in Bishops Mills
    When all we thought we knew of life is stilled.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Fred, thank you so much for sharing this beautiful sonnet. The story of its origin makes every line of it shine more brightly. The closing couplet says much… gracefully and heartbreakingly.

      Reply
  3. Russel Winick

    Great job Susan – you picked all of my favorites and more for such events.

    Reply
  4. Joseph S. Salemi

    Susan, these are meticulously chosen pieces, each one of them excellent both for appropriateness and polished style. And your small introductory vignettes in prose for each writer are perfectly done!

    Like all good poets, you are also perceptive and appreciative of the work of others.

    And once again Evan Mantyk has produced a breathtakingly beautiful layout of illustration.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Joe, I thoroughly appreciate your lovely comment, and I’m with you on the layout front. Evan has lifted the entire piece to greater heights with his fine eye for aesthetic appeal.

      Reply
  5. Paul A. Freeman

    On August 16th, Evan published my poem ‘My Favourite Photo of Mum’, on request for that day, without asking why, for which I thank him.

    Later in the day, I was reciting the poem at Mum’s funeral.

    I preferred that people comment on the poem for the joyful celebration I meant it to be, rather than with messages of sympathy. That you did, and for that I am very appreciative.

    The other poem read at Mum’s funeral was Let Me Go, which is on Susan’s list.

    Re, Roy’s comment, not everyone can write a poem, though it would be wonderful if every funeral could have a personalised piece of verse. At Mum’s funeral we had quite a lot of working class people who were not much acquainted with poetry, so Let Me Go was perfect in its simplicity and profoundness.

    It would be a good exercise to write a poem for funerals and the muse feels willing.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Paul, you did your mum proud with that wonderful poem – I thoroughly enjoyed it, and now I know it was read in celebration of your mum at her funeral, I have even greater appreciation for the words. I am sorry for your loss, but so happy to hear you had a wonderful relationship… there’s no greater gift our parents can bestow than love.

      I’m with you on writing poems for funerals front. It wasn’t easy searching for a top ten list… there is certainly room out there for more, many more, funeral poems.

      Reply
      • Paul A. Freeman

        Last night I wrote a funeral poem from the point of view of the departed conversing reciting to the living at his / her funeral. The muse was indeed willing.

      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Paul, I’m glad to hear your muse was willing and hope we get to read the end result here. I look forward to it!

  6. Brian A. Yapko

    Thank you, Susan, for this go-to list of selections in which the somber is transformed into great beauty. You join together your poetic eye and your funeral experience for the benefit of all of us. I hope no one needs them on this site for a long time to come!

    When speaking of funeral poems, I interpret the definition broadly as a poem in which death may be contemplated and, one hopes, vanquished — at least in spirit. For this purpose I favor “Death Be Not Proud” by John Donne. I would also think that excerpts from longer poems might be suitable: “In Memoriam A.H.H.” by Tennyson and his “better to have loved and lost” language at the end. And lastly, “With Rue My Heart is Laden” by A.E. Housman which was recited to warm effect at a distant family member’s funeral.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Brian, you make some excellent observations and your choice of “Death Be Not Proud” by Donne nearly made my list. A poem to put arrogant and fearsome Death in his rightful place is a comforting thought. I hadn’t heard of “With Rue My Heart is Laden” by A.E. Housman. I’ve now read it and think it’s lovely. Thank you! I’m beginning to feel this list should be a bit longer.

      Reply
  7. Yael

    Thank you for this beautiful collection of funeral poems Susan. It looks like there’s something for everyone in it. My favorites are Crossing the Bar and Miss Me but Let Me Go.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Yael, I’m glad you like my choices, Yael. Your favorites are beautiful. I love each poem for different reasons, which is why I couldn’t put them in any particular order. Thank you for your appreciation.

      Reply
  8. Stephen Dickey

    On a different note, verses for the departure of a certain kind of step-parent:

    Well now, you’ve finally made a kind of quittance.
    In life a titanic pain in the ass,
    In death it seems you thought you’d get a pass.
    Ashes or dust, just stay scarce, and good riddance.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Stephen, I like this. Heavenly words of wonder aren’t always the way to go at a funeral. Some in your face honesty with a bitter grin and a dash of bile may go down well for some. Dorothy Parker nearly made my list with her unique take on mourning:

      Condolence by Dorothy Parker (1893 –1967)

      They hurried here, as soon as you had died,
      Their faces damp with haste and sympathy,
      And pressed my hand in theirs, and smoothed my knee,
      And clicked their tongues, and watched me, mournful-eyed.
      Gently they told me of that Other Side—
      How, even then, you waited there for me,
      And what ecstatic meeting ours would be.
      Moved by the lovely tale, they broke, and cried.

      And when I smiled, they told me I was brave,
      And they rejoiced that I was comforted,
      And left, to tell of all the help they gave.
      But I had smiled to think how you, the dead,
      So curiously preoccupied and grave,
      Would laugh, could you have heard the things they said.

      With England being my homeland, I love this one. I used to live near Erith (the stomping ground of one of my favorite poets, Wendy Cope):

      The Busman’s Prayer ~ Anonymous

      Our Father
      Who art in Hendon
      Harrow Road be Thy name
      Thy Kingston come
      Thy Wimbledon
      In Erith as it is in Hendon
      Give us this day our Berkhampstead
      And forgive us our Westminsters
      As we forgive those who Westminster against us
      Lead us not into Temple Station
      And deliver us from Ealing
      For thine is the Kingston
      The Purley and the Crawley
      For Iver and Iver
      Crouch End.

      Reply
  9. Satyananda Sarangi

    A power-packed set of poems, Susan ma’am. I’m reading “Loss” by Winifred M. Letts for the first time and I connect with it the most.

    This list also reminds me of Tichborne’s Elegy.

    My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
    My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
    My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
    And all my good is but vain hope of gain.
    The day is gone and yet I saw no sun,
    And now I live, and now my life is done.

    The spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung,
    The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green,
    My youth is gone, and yet I am but young,
    I saw the world, and yet I was not seen,
    My thread is cut, and yet it was not spun,
    And now I live, and now my life is done.

    I sought my death and found it in my womb,
    I lookt for life and saw it was a shade,
    I trode the earth and knew it was my tomb,
    And now I die, and now I am but made.
    The glass is full, and now the glass is run,
    And now I live, and now my life is done.

    – Chidiock Tichborne

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Satyananda, thank you so very much for ‘Tichborne’s Elegy’ – I really appreciate you posting your favorite in the comments section. I will admit to “Loss” being a personal favorite… the tricky aspect of this list is that every funeral is different… different ages, different backgrounds, different circumstances… etc. etc. That’s why I didn’t choose a particular order of personal preference. I will leave that to the readers.

      Reply
  10. Daniel Kemper

    Great selection!
    Sadly, great timing. My favorite of these short poignant pieces ends with the line, “_Miss me, but let me go.” Such a simple line but as a cap to the poem, so powerful. How did you search for these? A few I knew but many delightful discoveries for me.

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Daniel, first of all, I am sorry for your loss. I love the line you mention too… it’s the kindest piece of advice one in grief can hear from a departed loved one.

      Searching for these poems wasn’t easy. I wanted each one to hit the right note, yet I wanted a series of poems that spoke of different circumstances. I searched in my vast collection of books. I searched on the internet, and I drew upon memories of poems I’ve heard. The research took much longer than the write ups. I am thrilled you appreciate the poems I chose.

      Reply

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