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Grief poem

Reading time: 35 seconds

Gentle Modern Non-religious Plain English

Lucas Jones · 2023

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Grief poem

Lucas Jones · 2023

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Gentle Modern Non-religious Plain English

Meaning

Someone gets through an ordinary day after a death. Out of bed, eggs on, the tube, turning up, making the right noises. The only thing that gives him away is not knowing whether to say is or was.

Who's it for

A family still doing everything right and feeling none of it. Right for the first few weeks, when everybody is more tired than sad.

Lucas Jones

British · Around 30 years old

@lucassjoness

@lucasthejones

linktr.ee/lucassjoness

Lucas Jones is an actor and a poet. He grew up in Huntingdon in a pentecostal family, moved house seven times before he was fourteen, and lives in London now. He started putting poems on the internet in 2023 and more than a million people follow him.

More about Lucas Jones →

More modern poems

16 in all

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Bus Shelter

This poem is for someone who thought the fuss about dying was a bit much. Right for a commuter, a queuer, anyone who spent their life waiting patiently for things.

FunnyModern

2015

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

chasing ceremony/convincing myself

This poem is for somebody who loved them and cannot be in the room. Right where a brother is abroad, a sister is too ill to travel, or the person who knew them longest is the one who has to watch on a screen.

ModernNon-religious

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

ModernNon-religious

1928

1 min

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses of the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Read the whole poem →

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Funeral Blues

This poem is for someone who was everything to one person. It's for a mourner who doesn't want cheering up yet, and there's nothing better for a partner.

A classicFor a partner

1936

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

I found God at the funeral

This poem is for a family who are angry and not ready to be told it was for the best. Right where somebody died too young and nobody in the room has made their peace with it.

ModernPlain English

2025

2 min

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

In the Departure Lounge

This poem is for someone whose last words to you were about nothing at all. Right for a family who keep going back over an ordinary conversation they didn't know was the last one.

FunnyModern

2015

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Miss you forever (in crayon)

This poem is for a funeral with children in the room. Right for a family who'd rather tell them the truth than a story.

ComfortingModern

2024

55 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

No flowers, please

This poem is for someone who didn't want a fuss and said so. Right for a family who'd rather people came round than sent flowers.

ModernNon-religious

2025

30 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

On my gravestone write;

This poem is for someone who got things wrong and never pretended otherwise. Right for a family who'd rather say he was no angel than pretend he was.

ModernNon-religious

2025

15 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

She Is Gone

This poem is for a mother or a grandmother, and a family trying to turn back towards living. Right for someone who'd have wanted everyone to get on with it.

A classicComforting

1981

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

The beautiful thing about dying is this

This poem is for almost any funeral. Especially right for a family who are frightened of forgetting.

ComfortingModern

2025

1 min

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

More gentle poems

17 in all

See all 17 →

Afterwards

This poem is for someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.

GentleNon-religious

1917

2 min

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, "He was a man who used to notice such things"? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, "To him this must have been a familiar sight." If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone"? If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? 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 bell's boom, "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?

Read the whole poem →

Because I could not stop for Death

This poem is for someone unhurried, who took things as they came and was never frightened of what was ahead.

A classicGentle

1890

50 sec

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school where children played, Their lessons scarcely done; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 't is centuries; but each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity.

Read the whole poem →

Crossing the Bar

This poem is for someone who had a long life and was ready. Especially right for anyone who went to sea, or just loved being near it.

A classicA long life

1889

45 sec

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.

Read the whole poem →

Death Is Nothing At All

This poem is for almost any funeral, and it is the reading most families have already heard. Right for someone whose house was full of easy talk and jokes.

A classicComforting

1919

2 min

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

Read the whole poem →

Death stands above me

This poem is for a family who do not believe in anything particular and would rather not pretend they do. Right for someone who was not afraid at the end.

ComfortingGentle

1853

15 sec

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Epitaph on an Infant

This poem is for a baby, or a child who died very small. It is right where a family believe their child is somewhere safe and being looked after now.

ComfortingFor a baby

1794

10 sec

Little Boy Blue

This poem is for a small child, and a family who need the loss said simply rather than explained away. It is right where the toys are still in the house.

A classicFor a child

1888

1 min

The little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and staunch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And his musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now, don't you go till I come," he said, "And don't you make any noise!" So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt of the pretty toys; And, as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue-- Oh! the years are many, the years are long, But the little toy friends are true! Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place-- Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting the long years through In the dust of that little chair, What has become of our Little Boy Blue, Since he kissed them and put them there.

Read the whole poem →

Music, when soft voices die

This poem is for a musician or a singer, and anyone whose house was always full of music. It also fits a husband or wife, because what it says is that their love outlasts them.

ComfortingFor a musician

1824

20 sec

On a Dead Hostess

This poem is for a woman whose house people wanted to be in. Right for a grandmother, a mother, anyone who was the reason everybody turned up.

ComfortingGentle

1923

10 sec

Remember

This poem is for a long marriage, or a parent you were really close to. It's the person who died giving everyone permission to be happy again.

A classicComforting

1862

50 sec

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

Read the whole poem →

Song

This poem is for someone who hated fuss and wouldn't have wanted a big do. Right where the family want something plain and completely unsentimental.

A classicGentle

1862

40 sec

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.

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More non-religious poems

24 in all

See all 24 →

Afterwards

This poem is for someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.

GentleNon-religious

1917

2 min

Read the whole poem →

Barter

This poem is for a person who got a lot out of being alive: weather, music, food, their children's faces. Right where a family want the funeral to be about the living they did.

Non-religiousNot about death

1917

50 sec

Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night. Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

Read the whole poem →

chasing ceremony/convincing myself

ModernNon-religious

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Death stands above me

This poem is for a family who do not believe in anything particular and would rather not pretend they do. Right for someone who was not afraid at the end.

ComfortingGentle

1853

15 sec

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

ModernNon-religious

1928

1 min

Read the whole poem →

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Epitaph on a Friend

This poem is for a best friend, especially one who died young. Right for a family who would rather the grief were said out loud than smoothed over.

For a friendGone too soon

1807

2 min

Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear! What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier! What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath, Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! Could tears retard the tyrant in his course; Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force; Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey; Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight. If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie, Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart, A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art. No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep, But living statues there are seen to weep; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb, Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom. What though thy sire lament his failing line, A father's sorrows cannot equal mine! Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer, Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here: But, who with me shall hold thy former place? Thine image, what new friendship can efface? Ah, none!--a father's tears will cease to flow, Time will assuage an infant brother's woe; To all, save one, is consolation known, While solitary Friendship sighs alone.

Read the whole poem →

Funeral Blues

This poem is for someone who was everything to one person. It's for a mourner who doesn't want cheering up yet, and there's nothing better for a partner.

A classicFor a partner

1936

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

I Shall Not Care

This poem is for someone who was their own person and never needed anyone's approval. Right for a woman who did things her own way and would have hated a fuss.

Non-religiousStoic

1915

25 sec

I strove with none

This poem is for someone who reached a good age and stayed out of other people's arguments. Right for a person who loved being outdoors or worked with their hands, and was content by the end.

A long lifeNon-religious

1849

15 sec

Invictus

This poem is for someone who got dealt a hard hand and never let it decide who they were. The person others called stubborn and you would call brave.

A classicFor a veteran

1888

50 sec

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

Read the whole poem →

Joy, Shipmate, Joy!

This poem is for a sailor, or anyone who was happiest setting off somewhere new. Right for a family who want something glad said out loud at the funeral.

For an adventurerNon-religious

1871

20 sec

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