Now, while he was thus in discourse, his countenance changed; his strong man bowed under him; and after he had said, ‘Take me, for I come unto Thee!’ he ceased to be seen of them.

But glorious it was to see how the upper region was filled with horses and chariots, with trumpeters and pipers, with singers and players on stringed instruments, to welcome the pilgrims as they went up, and followed one another in at the beautiful gate of the city.

from The Pilgrim’s Progress, John Bunyan (1628–88)

Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky

Dig the grave and let me lie:

Glad did I live and gladly die,

And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:

Here he lies where he longed to be;

Home is the sailor, home from sea,

And the hunter home from the hill.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850–94)

‘I thought I’d write my own obituary’

I thought I’d write my own obituary. Instead,

I wrote the blurb for when I’m risen from the dead:

Ignite the flares, connect the phones, wind all the clocks;

the sun goes rusty like a medal in its box –

collect it from the loft. Peg out the stars,

replace the bulbs of Jupiter and Mars.

A man like that takes something with him when he dies,

but he has wept the coins that rested on his eyes,

eased out the stopper from the mouthpiece of the cave,

exhumed his own white body from the grave.

Unlock the rivers, hoist the dawn and launch the sea.

Set up the skittles of the orchard and the wood again,

now everything is clear and straight and free and good

again.

Simon Armitage (1963–)

Think of Me Then

On a day of rain when you sit indoors

By the fire with a book, as I loved to do,

And the storm wind roars

Think of me then.

As you walk by the shore when the sun is high

And the sea is blue, as I loved to do,

And the seagulls cry

Think of me then.

When you’re skimming stones in the fading light

Choosing them smooth, as I loved to do,

And they skip out of sight

Think of me then.

When you sit in the garden in summer and keep

Watch with the night, as I loved to do

Go to sleep,

Dream of me then.

Asa James (1972–)

The New Path

Now I know what is meant by death –

A leavetaking

In one way, in another

A kind of waking.

The old world almost gone

your voices ringing

in my ears like a distant echo

barely clinging.

The stones of the earth are warm

and the grass is singing

as I start down my new path

to my new beginning.

Oscar Beynon (1962–)

Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking
Along the beach with the Lord,