For funeral directors Log in Create a farewellCreate a farewell website

Funeral poemsMothers don't die

Mothers don't die

Reading time: 1 minute

Comforting For a mother Modern Plain English Uplifting

Lucas Jones · 2026

Add to an order of service

Mothers don't die

Lucas Jones · 2026

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

serany.app

Where to read it

Hear Lucas read it himself

What Serany thinks about this poem

Comforting For a mother Modern Plain English Uplifting

Meaning

He says a mother does not really die, she carries on in whoever she raised: in their kindness, in the voice in their head, in what they do for their own children. He imagines her upstairs in heaven making the bed up ready for when it is your turn.

Who's it for

A mother's funeral, read by one of her children. Right for a family who want to say what she built rather than what they have lost.

Lucas Jones

British · Around 30 years old

@lucassjoness

@lucasthejones

linktr.ee/lucassjoness

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.

More about Lucas Jones →

More uplifting poems

29 in all

See all 29 →

A man dies twice

This poem is for a man who kept a sense of purpose right to the end. Right for a family who want to say what he was for rather than what he was like.

ModernPlain English

2025

50 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 →

A Psalm of Life

This poem is for someone who never sat still and left things behind them: a business, a trade, a houseful of people they taught. Right for a life spent being useful.

A classicPlain English

1838

2 min

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,--act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;-- Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.

Read the whole poem →

Afterlife

This poem is for a child's funeral, or a family who want somewhere hopeful to put the question without naming a religion. It is playful on purpose.

For a childModern

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

More about this poem →

Are you winning

This poem is for a nurse, a carer, or anybody who worked in the room where people die. Right for a service full of colleagues who did the same job.

ModernPlain English

2026

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.

More about this poem →

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.

Read the whole poem →

Death, be not proud

This poem is for a believer, and a family who want something with some fight in it rather than a quiet goodbye. It suits a person who argued back all their life.

A classicReligious

1633

55 sec

Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; And soonest our best men with thee do go-- Rest of their bones and souls' delivery! Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke. Why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!

Read the whole poem →

Death's probably a gift

This poem is for a family who want comfort without religion. Right after a long life, or a long illness that was fought hard.

ModernNon-religious

2026

2 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.

More about this poem →

Doing the right thing

This poem is for someone whose kindness nobody ever thanked them for. Right for a family who want that said plainly at last.

ModernPlain English

2024

40 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 →

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

I don't care if God's real as long as God's true

This poem is for a family who are divided about religion, for somebody whose goodness was the whole of their faith. Right where half the room would walk out of a sermon and the other half needs one.

ComfortingModern

2026

2 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.

More about this poem →

I'd do it all again

This poem is for a friend, read by the friend who nearly did not make it either. Right for a service where the people in the room got each other through something.

For a friendModern

2026

55 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 →

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

More poems for a mother

8 in all

See all 8 →

Just the Way

This poem is for a daughter burying her mother, and especially a service falling anywhere near Mother's Day, which is where it opens.

ComfortingFor a mother

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

More about this poem →

Lighthouses

This poem is for a grandmother, read by the daughter who is now raising children of her own without her.

For a motherModern

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

More about this poem →

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!

Read the whole poem →

Remember

This poem is for a long marriage, or a parent you were really close to. It's the person who died giving everyone permission to be happy again.

A classicComforting

1862

50 sec

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by day You tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understand It will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

Read the whole poem →

Rock Me to Sleep

This poem is for a mother whose children still feel like children when they think of her. Someone whose particular comfort nobody else was ever able to copy.

A classicFor a mother

1859

3 min

Backward, turn backward, O Time in your flight, Make me a child again just for tonight; Mother, come back from the echoless shore, Take me again to your heart as of yore; Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; Over my slumbers your loving watch keep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years, I am so weary of toil and of tears— Toil without recompense, tears all in vain— Take them, and give me my childhood again! I have grown weary of dust and decay— Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; Weary of sowing for others to reap; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you! Many a summer the grass has grown green, Blossomed, and faded our faces between! Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain Long I tonight for your presence again. Come from the silence so long and so deep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Over my heart in the days that are flown No love like mother love ever has shone; No other worship abides and endures— Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours; None like a mother can charm away pain From the sick soul and world weary brain. Slumber’s soft calms o’er the heavy lids creep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, Fall on your shoulders again as of old; Let it drop over my forehead tonight, Shading my faint eyes away from the light; For with its sunny edged shadows once more Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; Lovingly, softly its bright billows sweep; Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep. Mother, dear mother, the years have been long Since I last hushed to your lullaby song; Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem Womanhood’s years have been only a dream. Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, With your light lashes just sweeping my face, Never hereafter to wake or to weep— Rock me to sleep, mother—rock me to sleep.

Read the whole poem →

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

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

More about this poem →

What I Learned

This poem is for a mother who raised someone to be sure of themselves. The second half reaches past the family to anyone else in the room who needs it.

For a motherModern

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

More about this poem →

More comforting poems

47 in all

See all 47 →

Adulthood

This poem is for a family who feel something at a funeral and have no words for it. Right for a room that is not religious and is not comfortable saying so either.

ComfortingModern

2024

50 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 →

Afterparty

This poem is for a family being swallowed by the ugly end of grief. It tells them what the anger is made of without asking them to feel better yet.

ComfortingModern

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

More about this poem →

Again

This poem is for anyone in the first terrible weeks who has caught themselves wishing they had never met. It is the answer to that thought.

ComfortingModern

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

More about this poem →

All At Once

This poem is for a family who feel they are grieving wrongly, especially anyone who caught themselves laughing. It tells them nothing has gone wrong.

ComfortingModern

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

More about this poem →

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.

Read the whole poem →

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!

Read the whole poem →

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

1934

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

More about this poem →

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.

Read the whole poem →

Firsts

This poem is for a family looking down the barrel of the first year. It does not tell them it gets better, only that it stops happening for the first time.

ComfortingModern

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

More about this poem →

Flowers

This poem is for a family dreading the first birthday and the first anniversary. It hands back the obligation before anybody has to feel guilty about it.

ComfortingGentle

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

More about this poem →

Are you planning a funeral?

A Serany website keeps the whole funeral in one place: the plans and the details, who is coming, flowers and donations, and somewhere for everyone who knew them to leave a memory.

Create a farewell website See how it works