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Which says I must not stay. I see a hand you can not see. Which beckons me away. There is more peace somewhere. I cannot think of them as dead who walk with me no more; along the path of life I tread they but are gone before. In the rising of the sun and in its going down, we remember them. In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them. In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer, we remember them. In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them. When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them. When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them. When we have joys we yearn to share, we remember them. So long as we live, they too shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them. Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself. Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go. Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you. Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.