Lucas Jones is an actor and a poet. He grew up in Huntingdon in a pentecostal family, moved house seven times before he was fourteen, and lives in London now. He started putting poems on the internet in 2023 and more than a million people follow him.

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More modern poems

16 in all

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Bus Shelter

This poem is for someone who thought the fuss about dying was a bit much. Right for a commuter, a queuer, anyone who spent their life waiting patiently for things.

FunnyModern

2015

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chasing ceremony/convincing myself

This poem is for somebody who loved them and cannot be in the room. Right where a brother is abroad, a sister is too ill to travel, or the person who knew them longest is the one who has to watch on a screen.

ModernNon-religious

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

ModernNon-religious

1928

1 min

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost. The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,— They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses of the world. Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

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Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

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Funeral Blues

This poem is for someone who was everything to one person. It's for a mourner who doesn't want cheering up yet, and there's nothing better for a partner.

A classicFor a partner

1936

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Grief poem

This poem is for a family still doing everything right and feeling none of it. Right for the first few weeks, when everybody is more tired than sad.

GentleModern

2023

35 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

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I found God at the funeral

This poem is for a family who are angry and not ready to be told it was for the best. Right where somebody died too young and nobody in the room has made their peace with it.

ModernPlain English

2025

2 min

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In the Departure Lounge

This poem is for someone whose last words to you were about nothing at all. Right for a family who keep going back over an ordinary conversation they didn't know was the last one.

FunnyModern

2015

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No flowers, please

This poem is for someone who didn't want a fuss and said so. Right for a family who'd rather people came round than sent flowers.

ModernNon-religious

2025

30 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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On my gravestone write;

This poem is for someone who got things wrong and never pretended otherwise. Right for a family who'd rather say he was no angel than pretend he was.

ModernNon-religious

2025

15 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

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She Is Gone

This poem is for a mother or a grandmother, and a family trying to turn back towards living. Right for someone who'd have wanted everyone to get on with it.

A classicComforting

1981

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The beautiful thing about dying is this

This poem is for almost any funeral. Especially right for a family who are frightened of forgetting.

ComfortingModern

2025

1 min

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

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More comforting poems

18 in all

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Crossing the Bar

This poem is for someone who had a long life and was ready. Especially right for anyone who went to sea, or just loved being near it.

A classicA long life

1889

45 sec

Sunset and evening star, And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar.

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Death Is Nothing At All

This poem is for almost any funeral, and it is the reading most families have already heard. Right for someone whose house was full of easy talk and jokes.

A classicComforting

1919

2 min

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

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Death stands above me

This poem is for a family who do not believe in anything particular and would rather not pretend they do. Right for someone who was not afraid at the end.

ComfortingGentle

1853

15 sec

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Epitaph on an Infant

This poem is for a baby, or a child who died very small. It is right where a family believe their child is somewhere safe and being looked after now.

ComfortingFor a baby

1794

10 sec

Fear No More the Heat o' the Sun

This poem is for a person who worked hard all their life and had had enough by the end. It also fits someone who never cared much who was important and who wasn't.

A classicA long life

1623

50 sec

Fear no more the heat o' the sun, Nor the furious winter's rages: Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning flash Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; Fear not slander, censure rash; Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.

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Hope is the thing with feathers

This poem is for someone who stayed hopeful without ever making a show of it, and kept other people going by it.

A classicComforting

1891

30 sec

It is not growing like a tree

This poem is for anyone who died young, and a family who need to hear that a short life was still a whole one. Right for a person who packed a lot in.

ComfortingGone too soon

1640

35 sec

Mother o' Mine

This poem is for a mother whose love never had any conditions on it. The kind that would have followed her children anywhere, and they always knew it.

ComfortingFor a mother

1891

40 sec

If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose love would follow me still, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were drowned in the deepest sea, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! I know whose tears would come down to me, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine! If I were damned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

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Music, when soft voices die

This poem is for a musician or a singer, and anyone whose house was always full of music. It also fits a husband or wife, because what it says is that their love outlasts them.

ComfortingFor a musician

1824

20 sec

On a Dead Hostess

This poem is for a woman whose house people wanted to be in. Right for a grandmother, a mother, anyone who was the reason everybody turned up.

ComfortingGentle

1923

10 sec

On Death

This poem is for a family who want hope without a particular religion behind it. Right for someone curious about everything, who wasn't frightened of what came next.

A classicComforting

1923

40 sec

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

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More non-religious poems

24 in all

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Afterwards

This poem is for someone who noticed things other people walked straight past. Right for a gardener, a birdwatcher, or anyone who was kind to animals.

GentleNon-religious

1917

2 min

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay, And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say, "He was a man who used to notice such things"? If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink, The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think, "To him this must have been a familiar sight." If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm, When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn, One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm, But he could do little for them; and now he is gone"? If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door, Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees, Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more, "He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"? And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom, "He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?

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Barter

This poem is for a person who got a lot out of being alive: weather, music, food, their children's faces. Right where a family want the funeral to be about the living they did.

Non-religiousNot about death

1917

50 sec

Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children's faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness to sell, Music like a curve of gold, Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold, And for your spirit's still delight, Holy thoughts that star the night. Spend all you have for loveliness, Buy it and never count the cost; For one white singing hour of peace Count many a year of strife well lost, And for a breath of ecstasy Give all you have been, or could be.

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chasing ceremony/convincing myself

ModernNon-religious

2021

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

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Death stands above me

This poem is for a family who do not believe in anything particular and would rather not pretend they do. Right for someone who was not afraid at the end.

ComfortingGentle

1853

15 sec

Dirge Without Music

This poem is for a family who are angry about it and would rather not pretend otherwise. Right for a death that makes no sense to anyone who knew them.

ModernNon-religious

1928

1 min

Read the whole poem →

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

This poem is for almost anyone, honestly. It's best of all for someone who was always outside: out walking, in the garden, never in the house.

A classicComforting

1932

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Epitaph on a Friend

This poem is for a best friend, especially one who died young. Right for a family who would rather the grief were said out loud than smoothed over.

For a friendGone too soon

1807

2 min

Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear! What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier! What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath, Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! Could tears retard the tyrant in his course; Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force; Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey; Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight. If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie, Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart, A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art. No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep, But living statues there are seen to weep; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb, Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom. What though thy sire lament his failing line, A father's sorrows cannot equal mine! Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer, Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here: But, who with me shall hold thy former place? Thine image, what new friendship can efface? Ah, none!--a father's tears will cease to flow, Time will assuage an infant brother's woe; To all, save one, is consolation known, While solitary Friendship sighs alone.

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Funeral Blues

This poem is for someone who was everything to one person. It's for a mourner who doesn't want cheering up yet, and there's nothing better for a partner.

A classicFor a partner

1936

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

More about this poem →

Grief poem

This poem is for a family still doing everything right and feeling none of it. Right for the first few weeks, when everybody is more tired than sad.

GentleModern

2023

35 sec

We are not licensed to show this poem here. You can still read it aloud at a funeral.

Hear Lucas Jones read it on TikTok.

More about this poem →

I Shall Not Care

This poem is for someone who was their own person and never needed anyone's approval. Right for a woman who did things her own way and would have hated a fuss.

Non-religiousStoic

1915

25 sec

I strove with none

This poem is for someone who reached a good age and stayed out of other people's arguments. Right for a person who loved being outdoors or worked with their hands, and was content by the end.

A long lifeNon-religious

1849

15 sec

Invictus

This poem is for someone who got dealt a hard hand and never let it decide who they were. The person others called stubborn and you would call brave.

A classicFor a veteran

1888

50 sec

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

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