I thought I saw her face todayIn the sparkle of the morning sun.And then I heard the angel say,Her work on earth is done., I thought I heard her voice todayThen laugh her hearty laugh.And then I heard the angel say,Theres peace, little one, at last., I thought I felt her touch todayIn the breeze that rustled by.And then I heard the angel say,The spirit never dies., I thought that she had left meFor the stars so far above.And then I heard the angel say,She left you with her love., I thought that I would miss herAnd never find my way.And then I heard the angel say,Shes with you every day.. Anger, hate, sorrow and fear, emotions within meant to be kept at bay,Courage, patients, persistence within ones mind and soul each dayThe art of fighting is so much more than just effective ways to kill,It sharpens and enriches the human mind with each new learned skill. Poems reflecting upon the importance of the memories we have of others. And I believe my voice will soundUpon the whispering windSo long as even one remainsAmong those I call friend.. I pour the steaming liquid,Watching the tendrils of steamRise, as if they carry my thoughtsTo some distant, better place. Popular funeral poems and readings. Well see your smile in every rayOf sunshine after rainAnd hear the of echo of your laughterOver all the pain. The clock of life is wound but once,And no man has the powerTo tell just when the hands will stopAt late or early hour. Crossword Blindness anon A poem about the struggles of figuring out that one clue that has you stumped.My Pencil Is Ready Ilene Bauer A poem about the joys of puzzling, written for National Crossword Puzzle Day.My Trusty Pencil Ilene Bauer Another poem by Bauer about the necessities of a pencil while doing crosswords. You were a loving, caring granddad.You were there for me a lot.You will always hold a place in my heart,A loving, treasured spot. And when this carpenter arrived in heavenhe was expected andimmediately he was put to work:for the Pearly Gateswere a bit looseand St. Peters deskhad a couple of drawers that stuck.And before longthe old master carpenterbegan to builda new thronefor God. Some love it for mingling with their upstanding crowdThe drinking, the laughter, the gossip so loudThey arrive at the track wearing yesterdays shoppingFor racing you say, more a spot of Box hopping. With a nod of the head, or a grip of the hand,He will give you his bond, that for ever will stand,And nothing much safer youll find in the land;For that is the badge of a Yorkshireman. Cave of wonderscaverns so deepthrough vast rooms I wanderso many secrets to keep. Half Mast Mark Gregory A poem for someone for whom flags held great meaning in their life.He Flew Them With Pride Mark Gregory A humorous limerick about a man who was obsessed with flags.Under The Flag Robert Longley A poem less about a flag and more about a soldier that offered his service to it. Last scene of all,That ends this strange eventful history,Is second childishness and mere oblivion;Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. Words have that kind of poweryou remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornlyfolded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs. Beyond anon A short verse signalling the hope that beyond the bad emotions there is peace and forgiveness.Dont Judge Me Kathleen Wilson A lament on behalf of someone who may have felt outcast or unaccepted.If I Had A Voice Caroline Wilkes A verse apologising for not always being the best person one could be.Time Will Ease The Hurt Bruce B Wilmer A verse suggesting that time helps painful memories fade away.When I Come To The End Mrs Lyman Hancock A verse urging mourners to remember the deceased at their best. Ineffective? Dont cry for me, please dont be sadHold on to the memories of the times we both hadDont dwell on dark thoughts, hold on tight to your wishesSending you hugs and butterfly kisses. After she died, I swear the skyHad the most beautiful of all sunsets,A blush of pink, then red, a glass of red,Sudden dark and a hammock moon,Then its faint silhouette, almost secret.Life half-written, half unsaid.I had kissed your head in the strange room.Then later, I blew a kiss to the stars, to regret. Poems about grandfathers, grandpas, and gramps. Unknown Life is simply a cricket match, with temptation as the bowler. They are not in any particular order or category as every person interprets a poem in their own way. The tales you told about each catchIts stature and its girthWill live in memories unmatchedAs days pass here on earthUntil we meet again, one dayUpon Gods golden sandWell picture you, no other wayThan with a pole in hand. T he one person I could always take my troubles to. Please tell her she is loved so very dear.Ill say it every day for her to hear.Her short life on earth is now completedFor lessons Im sure you felt I needed. Poems about those who suffered from and in some cases, succumbed to addiction. No tears to be shed,Only in cheer;Continueonthe path already ledEachonyour own veer. I walk beside you, I am there all day longI am right here. Poems for Funerals and Memorial Services One does not leave a funeral in the same way that he has come. Grampa anon A short poem about a caring, loving, and very dear grandfather.Granddad Fiona Bourke A poem letting our grandad know that we will never stop loving them.A Grumpy Old Man Tony Jennett An amusing poem discussing all the traits of a typical grumpy old man.Goodbye, Grandad Sarah Harrison A goodbye to a grandfather who gave so much to his descendants.A Poem For My Granddad Dennis Taylor A sweet poem from a grandchild to a beloved grandfather. You loved the roaring of the crowd,The rush of victory,You loved the sweat, the tears, the toil,The adrenaline, so sweet. You said to look to the night skiesFor there is no other love so resoluteThat the feelings we grow for others;They are never absolute. The road you feel, within your palms, at every bend you take,Every bump and line and camber, each triumph and mistake,Your car it tells you all of this, for this is truly livin,Petrol flowing through the veins, and ways it can be driven. 3. Pirouette, PirouetteDancers silhouettePracticing at duskDedication is a must. You offered kindnessAnd greetings with a hug and kiss,Each freely out of love which I will miss. So from this moment, lets endeavourTo celebrate these worlds so clever;Well think of them, whenever, wherever:A legacy, to go on forever. We are connected, my child and I,by an invisible cord not seen by the eye.Its not like the cord that connects us at birththis cord cant be seen by any on earth. Our site uses cookies to provide you with the best possible user experience, if you choose to continue then we will assume that you are happy for your web browser to receive all cookies from our website. Theres a comedy book, Penguins Stop Play. Come to the beach and remember;Make some footprints of your own,And think of days now absentAnd the memories weve known. This is the legend of Cassius Clay,The most beautiful fighter in the world today.He talks a great deal, and brags indeedyOf a muscular punch thats incredibly speedy.This brash young boxer is something to seeAnd the heavyweight championship is his destiny. You made me proud of who you areand all that you have done You often reached beyond the starsto find your goals and won. See more ideas about grief quotes, grieving quotes, cowboy prayer. Oh! Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him seesThat half a proper gardeners work is done upon his knees,So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and prayFor the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away! My toes may bleedAnd my knees, grow weakBut Ill never stop dancingNot until I reach my peak. I watched them tearing a building down,A gang of men in a busy town.With a ho-heave-ho and lusty yell,They swung a beam and a sidewall fell.I asked the foreman, Are these men skilled,As the men youd hire if you had to build?He gave me a laugh and said No indeed!Just common labour is all I need.I can easily wreck in a day or twoWhat builders have taken a year to do.And I thought to myself as I went my way,Which of these two roles have I tried to play?Am I a builder who works with care,Measuring life by the rule and square?Am I shaping my deeds by a well-made plan,Patiently doing the best I can?Or am I a wrecker who walks the town,Content with the labour of tearing down? Some time at eve when the tide is low,I shall slip my mooring and sail away,With no response to the friendly hailOf kindred craft in the busy bay.In the silent hush of the twilight pale,When the night stoops down to embrace the day,And the voices call in the waters flow-Some time at eve when the tide is low,I shall slip my mooring and sail away.Through the purpling shadows that darkly trailOer the ebbing tide of the Unknown Sea,I shall fare me away, with a dip of sailAnd a ripple of waters to tell the taleOf a lonely voyager, sailing awayTo the Mystic Isles where at anchor layThe crafts of those who have sailed beforeOer the Unknown Sea to the Unseen Shore.A few who have watched me sail awayWill miss my craft from the busy bay;Some friendly barks that were anchored near,Some loving souls that my heart held dear,In silent sorrow will drop a tearBut I shall have peacefully furled my sailIn mooring sheltered from storm and galeAnd greet the friends who have sailed beforeOer the Unknown Sea to the Unknown Shore. And left in sepulchres of stoneThe dead He buried there.But they are not dry bones alone;I see them as they were. Fossils Peter Cullen A thought-provoking poem perhaps equating physical fossils to memories of the dead.Old Bones and Stones Mark Gregory A first-person poem about a passion for fossils and an acceptance of death.A Story Of The Past Charles Sternberg The first four stanzas of Sternbergs poem about finding God in fossil-hunting. For forty years Ive lived with God,Oft from the haunts of men.Ive thought upon His wondrous wordAnd scenes beyond our ken. Bike like a rocket each sprocket fits its socket with well oiled smoothness of clockwork. It fell on my parching palateLike dew on a sun-baked plain,And my system began to flourishLike the grass in a soft Spring rain;It wandered throughout my being,Suffusing my soul with rest,And I felt as I scoffed that liquidThat life had a new-found zest. And all the while Im pouring drinksFor all my treasured punters:Lawyers, doctors, teachers, shrinks,Accountants and headhunters. Maailmankaikkeus. Might be some themed words in that that could be used? Ninety years without slumbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)His lifes seconds numbering(Tick, tock, tick, tock)It stopped short never to go again When the old man died. To be free of regretIn your old age,Never ever forgetTo fully live today! We wouldnt eat from a microwaveOr a restaurant down the streetWe all ate Mums home cookingAnd boy that cant be beat. Its always opening time in heavenAnd the alcohol doesnt go to your headIt floats around in ones etherAnd fortifies your spirit instead. There it goes.On lifes track I am starting to run. Ill walk the extra mile.Not because I have to, but because its worth my while.I know that I am different, when I stand on a crowded street.I know the fullness of winning, Ive tasted the cup of defeat. Time for us to part now, we wont say goodbye;Look for me in rainbows, shining in the sky.Every waking moment, and all your whole life throughJust look for me and love me, as you know I loved you. That man would rock me off to sleep,Would wipe my tears when I did weep.He watched me go from crawl to walk,And smiled with pride when I learned to talk. And then I thought, I am a partof all this, and I felta great happiness,and I opened the book againand began to read. Your email address will not be published. And though you are gone, though youre not here with methe cord is still there but no one can seeIt pulls at my heart, I am bruisedI am sorebut this cord is my lifeline as never before. And at the end of that good lifewhen it came time for him to diethe old carpenter soaredinto the white light of death for the white light is where the good souls go to. I do not ask you for your tears,For I am free, my suffering past.Remember all the times we laughed,And when you find that happy place,Let a smile light up your face. When my sailing days are over,And I sail the seas no more,I shall build myself a refugeBy the oceans murmuring shore.As I watch the foaming breakersWhen the tide comes rushing in,I will contemplate my lifetimeWith its virtues and its sins. Here are some suggestions for anyone wishing to choose a moving poem or verse for their loved one's funeral. But now my life is over; its time to say farewell,But dont forget my fossils and the stories they do tell,The stories of our history, a glimpse into the pastThey serve as a reminder of what time has amassed. She wore from ears, from nose, from lips, The ones that are on show, And she wore a heap in other places, But there I will not go. So sleep now with the angels,And your golden heart let rest.Although our hearts are broken,We know God took the best. Poems perfect for those who loved getting their fingers green and pottering about in the garden. If the juggler is tired now, if the broom standsIn the dust again, if the table starts to dropThrough the daily dark again, and though the plateLies flat on the table top,For him we batter our handsWho has won for once over the worlds weight. I was here, I used it all,and now I am at peace. Only for those of a special breed,Living a dream, a chance to succeed,Yesterdays hopes and desires coming true,Making your mark with records anew,Proving hard work and the daily grind,Instructing the body, conditioning the mindCan capture a medal for the whole world to see, withGlamour and Pride for your country.As you stand aloft and your flag is flown high, theresMemories forever, and a tear in your eye,Enjoying the moment, the admiring looks,Securing your name in the history books. Bird Watching Amy Ludwig Vanderwater A poem highlighting the joys and excitement of bird watching.Fly Celine Dion Words originally sung that reveal the sorrow yet relief of setting someone free from this Earth. Then all I want is the magic puff,And the straight and powerful driveTo complete the course,Using skill and forceIn a brilliant 65! The earth was made so sweet,The sky so fair,For man to cultivateAnd love and wear.But we, alas! When my bowling ball reaches the end of the alleyI hope for a strike.And when my life culminates in a dramatic finale,Heres what Id like: Id like to look back and not to feel blue;But to know that I rumbled through life straight and true.Id like to laugh at all the times I made your sides split,With moments of hilarity, of humour and of wit. My father-in-law was cricket barmy. The Lord is my pilot, I shall not drift.He guides me across the dark waters.He steers me through deep channels.He keeps my log.Yea, though I sail mid the thundersand tempest of life,I shall dread no anger, for He is with me;His love and His care, shelter me.He prepares a quiet harbour before me.He anoints the waves with oilMy ship rides calmly.Surely sunlight and starlightshall guide me on the voyage I take,And I will rest in the heavens port forever. The boxer stands with his gloves at the readyHis gait sure and steadyHis eyes aware and to the foreHis mind on the bout and nothing more, But deep within, and on his face writtenAre the many scars of a life hard-bittenAnd while neer shy of a hard-fought fightThere is no longer within the feeling of delight, His face has too oft been made to payBy an opponent better on the dayAnd though within beats the heart of a lionHis poor pummelled body has given up tryin, And while a fighter to his very coreJust the smell of gloves now he does abhorYet, still he stands, eyes puffed and blood galoreStill ready to wage a pugilists war. A timers ringing in my earThe dish of my lifetime is finally hereLove, family, friendship and cakeIngredients that really helped keep me awakeBut Ive now run out of that most important of allIve scoured the kitchen and even searched the hallIf only Id been more sage with my thymeAnd possibly quaffed alittleless wineSo please stand and shout with me, if you dont mindMORE THYME! Our fishermanWho art on riverbanksAngler be thy nameThy fishing season comesThy casting will be doneThe weather will be heavenly.Give us this day lots of bitesAnd forgive us our laughterAs we forgive you, yourLies about the one that got away.Lead us to a shoal of fishAnd deliver us a big catchFor thine is the carpThe Pike and the TroutForever and ever,Amen. Its everything you sacrificedand choices you made.Its all the problems that you solved,your lessons from mistakes. Until we lose. He put his arms around youAnd lifted you to rest.Gods garden must be beautiful,He always takes the best. The archer and his bowCannot be torn apart;For shot after shotThey share the same heart. Your family had joined a larger family of caregivers,Professionals, friends, and team mates.As the days go by, you are called upon to assistSomeone in need,Leaving your family known to you and love,Knowing someday something may go wrong. Ill place a stone of amethyst, He said.For all the times you spent on your knees,when you asked if Id take care of your children,and then for having faith in Me., I have a pearl for every little sacrificethat you made without them knowing.For all the times you went without,to keep them happy, healthy and growing., And last of all I have a diamond,the greatest one of all,for sharing unconditional lovewhether they were big or small., It was you love that helped them growFeeling safe and happy and proudA love so strong and pureIt could shift the darkest cloud., After the Lord placed the last jewel in,He said, Your crown is now complete,Youve earned your place in HeavenWith your children at your feet., by Lewis Haynes (slightly adapted by Mark Gregory). Tolkien A wonderful verse about sailing off to the West; perfect for a Lord of the Rings fan.Crossing The Bar Alfred Lord Tennyson Another of Tennysons famous verses about mans final journey.Gone From My Sight (What Is Dying?) I cant stand the hassle, I cant stand the painIm getting those bad cards again and again.So Im giving up bridge Tonights a bad night.Declarer is horrid and nothings going right. This simple cup of tea,Is a reminder of all that is fleeting,All that is beautiful and transient,In this world of ours. I am a double award-nominated Family and Funeral Celebrant covering the entire UK, and would be happy to help you commemorate in a meaningful and personal way. To me youre more than an Uncle,youre truly a great friend.Someone I could pour my thoughts out toknowing youll cherish them to the end. And the bar stayed open all day. When I speak your name,It still brings me tears,And I wish I could hold youFor oh so many years. Keep the men happy and the girls nice,Let everybody be merry and have a good night.Keep the hookers out and the troublemakers at home,Leave the anger and misgivings at the door. I do not want these words to make you cry.I do not want to ever say goodbye. Your fingerprints are on my heart.Fingerprints that teach me about caring.Fingerprints that teach me about love.Fingerprints that teach me about courage.Fingerprints that teach me about hope.Fingerprints that bring me closer to my loved ones.Fingerprints that bring me closer to myself.In the time I cared for you my whole life changed never to be the same againAll this from tiny fingerprints that touch my heart.You will live in my heart forever never to be forgotten.I will always love you.You are my child. Edged and taken. Rugby, what a beautiful and passionate game Its not about money, fashion or fame. Hauskat Meemit. A ball point pen just wouldnt do That really is the case For I would be at quite a loss If I could not erase! I pray the Captain sets his fieldWith telepathic skill,That all his plans work wellAnd that the catches do not spill. A Poem for Mother. The ceremony is conducted by a humanist celebrantand it is both a celebration of a life and a dignified, personal farewell. The city . the Scrabble Kinghas arrived once moreto pound awayat the competition. 1000, images about Friend, Gifts on Pinterest, Friend Atmiya Vidya Mandir: English, s by Grade 7 Poets. Without you, Dad, I wouldnt beThe (wo)man I am today;You built a strong foundationNo one can take away. Some Folk Pam Nelson A poem reflecting on how a person made everyone around them feel special and loved. I cant improve you life, thats true,But I am always there to care for you.Years ago you became my wife,Since then you have become my life. 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. Teasing, rolling, need a little clip.Hairspray, blow dry, one more snip.Color, rinse, perm after perm.For a hairdresser, work-a-holic is our term. And though they may be gone now, Their love will always stay, A beacon shining bright and true, To guide us on our way. That our caravanning days togetherHave now ended that is trueBut travel on my darlingAnd think of me as you do. Cried and yelled at the moonand crushed nightmaresDrank together and helped each otherback to bed. Its bad times youve persevered.Its all the fun youve had.Its any time youve ever laughedand every tear youve shed. And you will see. The funeral bell is ringing for one, a last goodbye,And on the clock of our mortality, the hours just seem to fly,Respect to the departed is all that we can pay,And for each and every one of us, a final night and day. Life gave you many challenges Too many to be fair I only wish in all those timesI could have been right there. Poems for those who enjoyed track and field, and the opportunities it provided them in life. Can you send cremation ashes in the post? So when you talk of family lifeOr how it used to beThough many had more moneyNone were as rich as me. He taught us all so much;his brother how to care,tenderness bonded the family;it grew from our despair. Lay lady lay, in crimson and cloverIts been a hard days night, the partys over. Cosmopolitan House, Old Fore Street, Sidmouth, Devon, EX10 8LS, Contact : customerservices@thefuneralpoem.com. The other bingo players follow you with their eyes,As you happily claim that winning prize,Just the thought of bingo and the chance to win,Makes you smile one great big bingo grin! They kept us warm on winter nights,A sense of peace and calm,They were more than just plain fabric;They were creations of her palm. Toggle navigation Poem Searcher Discovery Engine 7,226 categories 345276 poems Is there art and adventure?Tell me are you happy? Poems for those who had a passion for karate, judo, kung fu, jiu jitsu, and other forms of martial arts. Im that little breeze in the summerAnd Im that unexpected white featherI plucked it from my downy wingsSo you remember; we are always together. The referee needs no introductionOr whistle for a foul blowWhen God raises his eyebrowsNone argue with the penalty or throw. Listen to the storiesthe old trees tell in hushing voices,the rushing sounds of ocean waves . I Juggle As I Go Mark Gregory A poem that mimics the rhythmic repetition of juggling, and, indeed, of life.The Juggler Richard Wilbur A poem that uses a juggler as ametaphorfor the kind of change one needs in life. Im climbing a mountainI feel like a bird in the air,Im gliding and soaringAnd feel like I havent a care. I am the wind in your hair, the sand in your toesButterfly kisses that you feel on your noseI am with you at sunrise and in the sunsetBut you cannot see me, its my one regret. Brothers Steve Mason A poem contemplating the unique bond of trust and loyalty that brothers share.For My Brother Shelly Domenici A touching tribute to a brother gone too soon.Memories Tamarah M. Olsen A poem reflecting upon the fond memories shared with a brother.My Brother anon A poem reflecting the many ups and downs of a relationship with a brother. Im confused beyond your concept,I am sad and sick and lost.All I know is that I need youTo be with me at all cost. In our hearts there is a placeThat only you can hold;Filled with loving memoriesMore precious than gold. I love to learn about them, and share all that I find,With others who love their fossils just as much as I love mine,They know that fossils are far more than simply rocks and debris,They are a vital window into our worlds history. Cricket, Lovely Cricket By Kwame Dawes Sometimes living in America is like living in a bubble. But when, to show affection for my son,she gives him candy, who can bear her eyes?begging from a tiny serious idolforgiveness for the terrible gift of timeshe once held out with beautiful, ignorant hands. )Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renewd,Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,The question, O me! But a heaven is easier made of nothing at allThan the earth regained, and still and sole withinThe spin of worlds, with a gesture sure and nobleHe reels that heaven in,Landing it ball by ball,And trades it all for a broom, a plate, a table. But it is only a game, right?So we stand up, we shake hands.We move on with our lives. A Bowlers Prayer anon A short, light-hearted, slightly religious verse praising the game of ten-pin bowling. Rest there on the mossWhere the soft zephyrs tossThough circlet of beauty and prideWith thy invisible wingsAttached to thy stringsAre folded in peace at thy side. But a bird that stalksdown his narrow cagecan seldom see throughhis bars of ragehis wings are clipped andhis feet are tiedso he opens his throat to sing. Land of the rainbow gold,For flood and fire and famine she pays us back threefold.Over the thirsty paddocks, watch, after many days,The filmy veil of greenness that thickens as we gaze. They were the glue that held us all in place, The one we could always depend on, Their warmth and kindness never failed, Their love, an endless fountain. Tiny Angel can you tell me,Why you have gone away?You werent here for very longWhy is it, you couldnt stay? Poems about the wonderful aunts that were always there for us, through thick and thin. Her knitting needles are now silentNot a sound more will they makeBut what a wonderful lesson [name] has left usTo give always more than you take. He picked up bricks, mortar and trowel to craftBarbies and walls, buildings and homes that lastAn arch or a curve, all his work set apart,Because each brick he placed, was a work of art. When a butterfly come to you, Ive been told,That its from someone in heaven, a past soul.If you keep a look out, if you open your heart,The things that were ordinary will now stand apart.I think if we look, read between the lines,You will find clues and you will find signs,That your loved one isnt past, not really, not gone,That they are not here, that they have just moved on.It is said that there is not death, just life and transitions,From the teachings of Buddha to the beliefs of the Christians.So from my heart, from my hope and belief,May you find many butterflies to assist with your grief. If I could be there with you, wed laugh and share memories from our past,And this gathering would be just one more tale, another story, not our last.But today I cant be with you, except in heart and memory stores.So, youll have to laugh, remember the past,and then let your engines roar! And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,Till they rise again, as they were a new bells boom,He hears it not now, but used to notice such things? When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear. The band upstairs is striking upFor me they now awaitTo play again I now can doAs I pass through heavens gate. Im just a little angel but my time was not in vain.As dark clouds that surround you give way unto the sun,My precious parents you will see that any heart will sing,If only for a moment it is brushed by angel wings. Wine comes in at the mouthAnd love comes in at the eye;Thats all we shall know for truthBefore we grow old and die.I lift the glass to my mouth,I look at you, and I sigh. Anthea Ballam A wonderful verse about the dual meaning of a conductors call of aaaaand rest!Funeralissimo Michael Ashby A short verse about musical notes lamenting the loss of a talented musician.The Gift To Sing James Weldon Johnson A short verse discussing the wonders of song and its ability to raise spirits.My Trumpet Is Silent anon A verse about being silent in this life, but reunited with past band members in the next.Reflections Of A Boomer anon A verse infused with various song lyrics and titles, perfect for a music lover.Songbird Georgia Lound A wistful verse about following the tune of a loved ones life, even after they die.Where Words Fail, Music Speaks Lucy Rudman A poem about the ability of song to express our feelings. "Alive" by Winifred Mary Letts. Brother when you weep for me, remember that it was meant to be,Lay me down and when you leave, remember Ill be at your sleeveIn every dark and choking hall, Ill be there as you slowly crawlOn every roof in driving snow; Ill hold your coat and you will know.In cellars hot with searing heat; at windows where at a gate you meet;In closets where young children hide: you know Ill be there at your side.The house from which I now respond is overstaffed with heroes gone;Men who answered one last bell did the job and did it well.As firemen we understand that deaths a card dealt in our hand,A card we hope we never play but one we hold there anyway.That card is something we ignore as we crawl across a weakened floor,For we know that were the only prayer for anyone that might be thereSo remember, as you wipe your tears, the joy I knew throughout the yearsAs I did the job I loved to do I pray that thought will see you through.