Godspeed

A Farewell

Here is no part

Of that we loved--

The tender heart

So quickly moved,

The wit, the laughter and the grace

Of gesture, the beloved face.

Here is a vesture doffed:

White ashes, dim and soft.

In memory of him

Who could not be confined

Save in the loving mind

We scatter to the air

This precious residue.

O memory, be true.

Now blow, fair breezes, blow,

And go, dear ashes, go.

by Janet Lewis