Dearest Friend,

"...thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee."
- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18.


"And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
And form so soft, and charms so rare,
Too soon return'd to Earth!"
-Lord Byron, and Thou art dead, as Young and Fair.


"Her suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
And breathed the long, long night away,
In statue-like repose.
But when the sun in all his state
Illumed the eastern skies,
She passed through Glory's morning gate
And walked in Paradise."
-James Aldrich, A Death-bed.


"To look upon the face of a dead friend
Is hard; but 'tis not more than we can bear
If, haply, we can see peace written there,--
Peace after pain, and welcome so the end,
Whate'er the past, whatever death may send."
-John Chadwick, The Hardest Lot.


"I little care to write her praise,
In truth, I little care that she
Should seem as pure in all her ways,
To others, as she seems to me."
- Alice Cary, My Playmate.


"Yet, though I cannot see thee more,
'Tis still a comfort to have seen;
And though thy transient life is o'er,
'Tis sweet to think that thou hast been;"
- Anne Bronte, A Reminiscence.


"I dream of your soft and sorrowful eyes
And I cannot forget."
-Laurence Hope, Unforgotten.