Funeral Poems For Sister

Losing a sister can be an heartbreaking event. Let these funeral poems for sister be ones that give you comfort and help you find the right words to say.

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  1. Death Of A Sister
    Poet: J. G. Whittier

    I will not mock thee with the poor world's common
    And heartless phrase,
    Nor wrong the memory of a sainted woman
    With idle praise.

    With silence only as their benediction,
    God's angels come
    Where, in the shadow of a great affliction.
    The soul sits dumb!

    Yet would I say what thy own heart approveth;
    Our Father's will,
    Calling to him the dear one whom he loveth,
    Is mercy still.

    God calls our loved ones, but we lose not wholly
    What he hath given;
    They live on earth, in thought and deed, as truly
    As in his heaven .

    Up, then, my beloved. Lo, the fields of harvest
    Lie white in view!
    She lives and loves thee, and the God thou servest
    To both is true.

  2. Lines On The Death Of A Sister
    Poet: Charles Sprague

    I knew that we must part; day after day
    I saw the dread Destroyer win his way.
    That hollow cough first rung the fatal knell,
    As on my ear its prophet-warning fell.
    Feeble and slow thy once light footstep grew;
    Thy wasting cheek put on death's pallid hue;
    Thy thin, hot hand to mine more weakly clung;
    Each sweet "good-night" fell fainter from thy tongue.

    I knew that we must part; no power could save
    Thy quiet goodness from an early grave
    Those eyes so dull, though kind each glance they cast,
    Looking a sister's fondness to the laut;
    Thy lips so pale, that gently pressed my cheek;
    Thy voice- -alas! thou couldst but try to speak -
    All told thy doom; I felt it at my heart:
    The shaft had struck; I knew that we must part.

    And we have parted, thou art gone!
    Gone in thine innocence, meek, suffering one.
    Thy weary spirit breathed itself to sleep
    So peacefully, it seemed a sin to weep
    In those fond watchers who around thee stood
    And felt that God, even then, was good.
    Like stars that struggle through the clouds of night,
    Thine eyes one moment caught a glorious light,
    As if to thee, in that dread hour, 'twere given
    To know on earth what faith believes of heaven;
    Then, like tired breezes, didst thou sink to rest,
    Nor one, one pang the awful change confessed.

    Death stole in softness o'er that lovely face.
    And touch'd each feature with a new-born grace;
    On cheek and brow unearthly beauty lay,
    And told that life's poor cares had passed away.
    In my last hour be Heaven so kind to me!
    I ask no more than this - to die like thee.

    But we have parted, thou art dead!
    On its last resting-place I laid thy head,
    Then by thy coffin-side knelt down and took
    A brother's farewell kiss and farewell look.
    Those marble lips no kindred kiss returned;
    From those vailed orbs no glance responsive burned;
    Ah! then I felt that thou hadst passed away,
    That the sweet face I gazed on was but clay.

    And then came Memory, with her busy throng
    Of tender images forgotten long;
    Years hurried back, and, as they swiftly rolled,
    I saw thee, heard thee, as in days of old.
    Sad and more sad each sacred feeling grew;
    Manhood was moved, and Sorrow claimed her due;
    Thick, thick and fast, the burning teardrops started:
    I turn'd away, and felt that we had parted.

    But not forever; in the silent tomb,
    Where thou art laid, thy kindred shall find room.
    A little while - a few short years of pain -
    And, one by one, we'll come to thee again.
    The kind old father shall seek out the place,
    And rest with thee, the youngest of his race;
    The dear, dear mother, bent with age and grief,
    Shall lay her head by thine in sweet relief;
    Sister and brother, and that faithful friend,
    True from the first and tender to the end -

    All, all in His good time who placed us here
    To live, to love, to die, and disappear,
    Shall come and make their quiet bed with thee
    Beneath the shadow of that spreading tree
    With thee to sleep through death's long, dreamless night,
    With thee rise up and bless the morning light.

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