Death stands above me, whispering low
I know not what into my ear:
Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.
Dear Grandpa, I don’t want you to worry about me. This was the plan from the very first day. God told me to trust him,
May your spirit soar in freedom From the fears that gripped so tight. May you find the peace you searched for As you wandered, lost,
A beautiful funeral poem about coming to terms with death at the end of life.
This extract from a longer ode by William Wordsworth is appropriate for funerals and memorial services because it acknowledges that although nothing can bring back
