Classic Poem

— Those we love truly never die,
Though year by year the sad memorial wreath,
A ring and flowers, types of life and death,
— Are laid upon their graves.

— For death the pure life saves,
And life all pure is love; and love can reach
From heaven to earth, and nobler lessons teach
— Than those by mortals read.

— Well blest is he who has a dear one dead:
A friend he has whose face will never change —
A dear communion that will not grow strange;
— The anchor of a love is death.

— The blessed sweetness of a loving breath
Will reach our cheek all fresh through weary years.
For her who died long since, ah! waste not tears,
— She's thine unto the end.

— Thank God for one dear friend,
With face still radiant with the light of truth,
Whose love comes laden with the scent of youth,
— Through twenty years of death.