The Poem

Douglas, Douglas, Tender and True


By Dinah Maria Craik

Could you come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,

In the old likeness that I knew,

I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.





Never a scornful word should grieve ye,

I’d smile on ye sweet as the angels do,—

Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.





Oh, to call back the days that are not!

My eyes were blinded, your words were few;

Do you know the truth now up in heaven,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?





I never was worthy of you, Douglas;

Not half worthy the like of you:

Now all men beside seem to me like shadows—

I love you, Douglas, tender and true.





Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,

Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew;

As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

How, Why

She sat in the front row looking frail,
frightened, emotions flowing, his casket
just above her, I have never felt the sadness
that I have felt today.
I felt her feelings so strongly, totally taken by
surprise at my feelings.
I have been to many funerals and felt sadness
but NEVER like this.
They were married 67 years, a full happy life.
At 90 some would say he was old, not surprising
that he would die, but to her this was her life above
her, gone, a shell but left.
With family and friends around her I could feel her loneliness,
It seemed as though I were connected to her soul.
At times hard to breathe I listened to the words being said
by the Minister, yet couldn't keep my eyes off of her, I could
not disconnect. As a poem was read, it said what she would have.
As she went up to say goodbye I had to leave, I could not stay
a moment longer. Her words to him were more than I could bear,
I must get away, I must breathe. The words to the poem kept running
through my mind, not understanding why this connection was
still there, i knew i had to some way distance myself, break this
connection. As i left with others to go to the grave site, I took in the
fresh air like i had not taken a breath in such a long time. That poem
still fresh, still haunting. Outside as the connection was finally distanced
still reeling from this sureal experince I wonderd, Why, how.

Always

Gandhi: Whenever I despair, I remember that the way of truth and love has always won. There may be tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they may seem invincible, but in the end, they always fail. Think of it: always.

The Lines

As I look in the mirror


with a smile upon my face

The lines I see tells the

story of my life.

The lines are some that

have brought me much joy

like my memories.

Others the sadness we

all go through.

The lines tell me who I am

No one knows where we

might end up, but the lines

show were where we have been.