There Is No Death

  There is no death. The stars go down
   To rise upon another shore,
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
   They shine forevermore.

There is no death. The forest leaves
   Convert to life the viewless air;
The rocks disorganize to feed
   The hungry moss they bear.

There is no death. The dust we tread
   Shall change beneath the summer showers
To golden grain or mellow fruit,
   Or rainbow tinted flowers.

There is no death. The leaves may fall,
   The flowers may fade and pass away--
They only wait through wintry hours
   The warm, sweet breath of May.

There is no death, although we grieve
   When beautiful familiar forms
That we have learned to love are torn
   From our embracing arms.

Although with bowed and breaking heart.
   With sable garb and silent tread,
We bear their senseless dust to rest,
   And say that they are dead--

They are not dead. They have but passed
   Beyond the mists that blind us here,
Into the new and larger life
   Of that serener sphere.

They have but dropped their robe of clay
   To put a shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away,
   They are not "lost" or "gone."

Though unseen to the mortal eye,
   They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
   They never do forget.

Sometimes upon our fevered brow
   We feel their touch, a breath of balm:
Our spirit sees them, and our hearts
   Grow comforted and calm.

Yes, ever near us, though unseen,
   Our dear, immortal spirits tread--
For all God's boundless Universe
   Is Life--there are no dead.

                        (By John McCreery)