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.
Well
blessed is she who has a dear one dead
A
friend she has whose face will never change,
A
dear communion that will not grow strange.
The
anchor of a life is death.
There
is no death, nor change, nor any ending.
Only
a journey, and so many go
That
we who stay at length discern the blending
Of
the two roads, two breaths, two lives, and so
Come
to the high and quiet knowledge that the dead
Are
but ourselves, made beautiful instead.
From,
"Readings on the Philosophy of Death"
Author
Unknown, from book, "Poetry For Verse Speaking Choir"
of
Hickman High School, Columbia, Missouri
Arranged
by, Helen D. Williams by Charley Blackmore, '63, Verse Choir VP
Back to Class of '64
Updated
Saturday, May 6, 2023