Francis William Bourdillon was a British poet and translator. I read this to my Father at the breakfast table shortly after 7:00 a.m. My father passed away around 8:00 that Tuesday morning.

Anyone who has ever trudged knee-deep through the breakup doldrums can take solace in the fact that Bourdillon knows. He was a beautiful soul. The author composed this poem in a moment of inspiration and scribbled it on a paper bag. Share Your Story Here. Her death devastated me. She was so nice, but her condition got to the better of her.

Today, I am passing it on to a dear friend who had just lost his sister.I lost my mom to the cold hands of death in 1999, just two years after my grandma passed on. I will always love him.. that. It's what we want to believe. He died at age 26. We whispered stories and secrets never before told. So this poem has been around a very long time and I am now going to use it for my mother-in-laws funeral service. She is devastated. I didn't really appreciate the poem at the time, but quite recently my auntie gave me my memory box ( a box of the four she made for each of us, myself and my siblings, that contained mementos that would remind us of our mum). by Francis William Bourdillon. We don't cry because our loved one is dead, we cry because we won't ever see or talk to them again and we will miss them. My gran also passed away just 2 weeks ago, and again I've found myself pulling up this poem. I was impressed and said a prayer and took a picture of her grave stone which was decorated with beautiful flowers. Then I saw 4 white birds flying in a circle and I thought to myself they look like ghost birds because they were so faint. We don't cry because our loved one is dead, we cry because we won't ever see or talk to them again and we will miss them. Were you touched by this poem? The poem “Greatfulness” has been written by Joseph T Renaldi. This poem has comforted me so many times over the years.This poem is a classic because it provides a link to a loved one who has died. I was in complete shock. Thank you, Charlene, for sharing your beautiful experience. It helps me because I still mourn losing my Mom, 52 years later.I first read this poem when I was reading Gill Ireland's book. I saw this poem just after I got the news, and I couldn't help but cry. It's difficult to be forced to give up someone you are very close to. The original poem was written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905-2004) from Baltimore, MD. The Night Has A Thousand Eyes. "Light" (popularly known as "The Night has a Thousand Eyes"), published in The Spectator (October 1873). The grief is lessened with beautiful words as these in this poem.

She passed away at the age of almost 91 years old. It made me cry but also comforted me because that is exactly what Caitlyn would tell me.I was nine when my mum died; she had been fighting cancer for years and none of us kids even knew. Reading this poem made me feel better knowing that he is out there watching over us. The Night Has A Thousand Eyes.

Just as they celebrated when you were born, not because you are born! I, too, have lost pets, and every time you lose one, you lose part of your own soul. Thank you to the person who wrote it. I believe every word your Mama said.

He is known mostly for his poetry, and in particular the single short poem The Night Has a Thousand Eyes. Rest in peace Coach. It was just the two of us sharing her hospice bed. The rhyme scheme of the poem is aabbccdd. What makes the difference between my birthday and my death day are the little things that I did, how I lived my life, how I socialized and lived in the society. Cancer, car accidents (their fault and others), suicide, and murder. This poem helped me so much. My friend's daughter, Christine, translated the poem into German at the funeral and she said that it brought great comfort to those assembled and to Peter's widow, Ute.

She was only 71. Sometimes I'd whisper to the walls in my room, wishing and hoping she were there listening. We are all connected by it.My dad passed away 6 months ago, just shortly after I turned 17.

Born in Runcorn, Cheshire, grew up at Woolbeding Rectory, near Midhurst, and deeply loved the area, and later built for himself and his family the house nearby, called 'Buddington'. I didn't know the severity or extent of what was going on. The song has had several cover versions over the years. It reminds me of my mom. While standing at the gravesite, a friend quietly handed me a crumpled piece of paper. Words are spiritual. I now have my Mum's garden bench in my garden and sit listening in the early morning and evening to the nature all around me and truly believe my Mum is with me in these wonderful things. But now I know she is not dead, she is in everything around me. I read this poem at my brothers funeral. I sat in that chair for at least an hour waiting for something to happen, and I read this poem at least 20 times. Next he thanks God “for the ears” which help him to “hear the sobbing of those” who need his help.