Stillborn Baby Poems
Welcome to the Stillborn Baby Funeral Poems, Verses. Please accept our sincere condolences on your bereavement.These free religious, inspirational funeral poems can be read at the funeral as part of a speech, tribute, eulogy or reading or can be included in the Order of Service or Program or used in a greeting CardThere are many poems in the other sections which might be equally suitable to you. We suggest you browse all the family sections
An angel wrote in the Book of LifeMy (Your) baby's date of birthThen whispered as she closed the book"Too beautiful for Earth" """ The world may never noticeIf a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,Or even pause to wonderIf the petals fall too soon.But every life that ever forms,Or ever comes to be,Touches the world in some small wayFor all eternity. The little one we long forWas swiftly here and gone.But the love that was then plantedIs a light that still shines on.And though our arms are empty,Our hearts know what to do.Every beating of our heartsSays that we do love you. """ Sometimes, when the sun goes down,It seems it will never rise again…but it will!Sometimes, when you feel alone,It seems your heart will break in two…but it won’t.And sometimes, it seemsIt’s hardly worthwhile carrying on…But it is.For sometimes, when the sun goes down,It seems it will never rise again,But it does Frank Brown """" Remember 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 plann'd:Only remember me; you understandIt will be late to counsel then or pray.Yet if you should forget me for a whileAnd afterwards remember, do not grieve:For if the darkness and corruption leaveA vestige of the thoughts that once I had,Better by far you should forget and smileThan that you should remember and be sad. Christina Rossetti """" The Noble Nature It is not growing like a treeIn bulk, doth make Man better be;Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:A lily of a dayIs fairer far in May,Although it fall and die that night—It was the plant and flower of LightIn small proportions we just beauties see;And in short measures life may perfect be. Ben Jonson """"" For A Child Born Dead What ceremony can we fitYou into now? If you had comeOut of this warm and noisy roomTo this, there'd be an oppositeFor us to know you by. We couldImagine you in lively mood. And then look at the other side,The mood drawn out of you, the breathDefeated by the power of death.But we have never seen you strideAmbitiously the world we know.You could not come and yet you go. But there is nothing now to mar.Your clear refusal of our world.Not in our memories can we mouldYou or distort your character.Then all our consolation isThat grief can be as pure as this. -Elizabeth Jennings """" ELEGY FOR A STILL-BORN CHILD Your mother walks light as an empty creelUnlearning the intimate nudge and pull Your trussed-up weight of seed-flesh andbone-curdHad insisted on. That evicted world Contracts round its history, its scar.Doomsday struck when your collapsedsphere Extinguished itself in our atmosphere,Your mother heavy with the lightness in her. For six months you stayed cartographerCharting my friend from husband towardsfather. He guessed a globe behind your steadymound.Then the pole fell, shooting star, into theground. On lonely journeys I think of it all,Birth of death, exhumation for burial; A wreath of small clothes, a memorialpramAnd parents reaching for a phantom limb. I drive by remote control on this bare roadUnder a drizzling sky, a circling rock. Past mountain fields full to the brim withcloud.White waves riding home on a wintry lough. -- Seamus Heaney, |