Farewell, Meg

A very special friend passed away early this morning, and my prayers and thoughts go out to her wonderful husband, Alan, and to their 3 very special children. Heaven's incredible gain today cannot diminish the huge sense of loss we feel at her passing.

My own words are hopelessly inadequate, and quite raw right now, but this poem became vey precious to me when my own beloved Dad died 14 years ago.

It's by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), and I have changed the original words of "his" in the poem to read "her"

The Scent of the Roses

Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour

Which awakens the night-song of mirth in your bow'r,

Then think of the friend who once welcom'd it too,

And forgot (her) own grief to be happy with you.

(Her) griefs may return, not a hope may remain,

Of the few that have brighten'd (her) pathway of pain,

But (she) ne'er will forget (her) short vision that threw

Its enchantment around (her), while ling'ring with you.

And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up

To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,

Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,

My soul, happy friends! shall be with you that night;

Shall join in your revels, your sports and your wiles,

And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles! --

Too blest, if it tells me, that, 'mid the gay cheer,

Some kind voice had murmur'd, I wish (she) were here!

Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,

Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;

Which come, in the night-time of sorrow and care,

And bring back the features that joy used to wear.

Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd!

Like the vase in which roses have once been distill'd --

You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.