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A friend of mine's father passed away recently. He and his sister organized a gathering to both remember their father and celebrate his life. A few poems and eulogies were read, among which this was my favorite. I thought I'd post it here.
The Trees
by Philip Larkin
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.
November 2 2011, 04:57:00 UTC 6 months ago
November 2 2011, 04:58:10 UTC 6 months ago