There is no death.! The stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore:
And bright in heaven's jewelled crown
They shine forevermore.

There is no death ! The dust we tread
Shall change beneath the summer shower?
To golden grain or mellowed fruit,
Or rainbow-tinted flowers.

The granite rocks disorganize,
And feed the hungry moss they bear ;
The forest leaves drink daily life,
From out the viewless air.

There is no death! The leaves may fall,
And flowers may fade and pass away;
They only wait through wintry hours,
The coming of the May.

There is no death! An Angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread
He bears our best loved things away
And then we call them. "dead."

He leaves our hearts all desolate,
He plucks our fairest, sweetest flowers
Transplanted into bliss, they now
Adorn immortal bowers.

The bird-like voice, whose joyous tones,
Made glad these scenes of sin and strife
Sings now an everlasting song,
Around the tree of life.

Where'er He sees a smile too bright,
Or heart too pure for taint and vice
He bears it to that world of light,
To dwell in paradise.

Born unto that undying life,
They leave us but to come again
With joy we welcome them the same -
Except their sin and pain.

And ever near us, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life—there are no dead.
Sir Edward Bewlar,
Lord Lytton (1803-1873)