THERE IS NO DEATH

There is no death! The stars go down
 To rise upon some other 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 mellowed fruit,
 Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

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

There is no death! The choicest gifts
 That heaven hath kindly lent to earth
Are ever first to seek again
 The country of their birth.

And all things that for growth or joy
 Are worthy of our love or care,
Whose loss has left us desolate,
 Are safely garnered there.

Though life becomes a desert waste,
 We know it's fairest, sweetest flowers,
Transplanted into Paradise,
 Adorn immortal bowers.

The voice of birdlike melody
 That we have missed and mourned so long,
Now mingles with the angel choir
 In everlasting song.

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 their shining raiment on;
They have not wandered far away--
 They are not "lost" nor "gone."

Though disenthralled and glorified
 They still are here and love us yet;
The dear ones they have left behind
 They never can forget.

And sometimes, when our hearts grow faint
 Amid temptations fierce and deep,
Or when the wildly raging waves
 Of grief or passion sweep,

We feel upon our fevered brow
 Their gentle touch, their breath of balm;
Their arms enfold us, and our hearts
 Grow comforted and calm.

And ever near us, though unseen,
 The dear, immortal spirits tread--
For all the boundless universe
 Is Life--there are no dead!

—John Luckey McCreery