In Loving Memory Verses - Lord Byron and Me

When I was in High School so many years ago now, I lost a friend. I came across a poem by Lord Byron and memorized most of in because of my loss. She was just a young girl, just 16 and should have been preparing to meet life outside her parents door. Yet, her life was cut pitifully short. I have since known several who have left this world and I guess this poem below is in honor of their presence. I will forever remember them, when they found laughter and singing and all the things we take for granted each day. My poem is about the loss of a lover but any loss at all of someone held dear becomes the same sadness to a certain degree.

"In Loving Memory"

In loving memory
I set my sail
far beyond the light
my love prevails.

I lost my love
not long ago
yet I forever hold a candle
to his perfect glow.

I set my sail
inside my mind
I traveled there
my love to find.

He's gone away
never to return
yet in my heart
I will forever yearn

In loving memory
alive and singing
I sip tea and flowers groom
I feel their meaning.

The flowers that loom
in Summer time
describe the magic
of my lovers eyes.

The tea I sip
taking pause to think
remembering all
from where we linked.

This sorrowful tale
will find its way
to mark the loss
of my lovers days.

My life feels empty
void of his laughter
Yet I'll hear it forever
today and after.

And if you fall
on my same path
know that love
will always last.

I'll think of you
as you think of me
and write a note
of a lovers creed.

There is no forgetting
such love at stake
no softer vision
of a loss embraced.

In every way
I see his eyes
I'll forget him never
as days go by.

In loving memory
I set my sail
far beyond the light
my love
most assuredly
prevails.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
30 December 2007

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Here below is Lord Byron's Poem:

"And Thou Art Dead, As Young and Fair"

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!
Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.

I will not ask where thou liest low,
Nor gaze upon the spot;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow,
So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove
That what I lov'd, and long must love,
Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell,
'T is Nothing that I lov'd so well.

Yet did I love thee to the last
As fervently as thou,
Who didst not change through all the past,
And canst not alter now.
The love where Death has set his seal,
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
Nor falsehood disavow:
And, what were worse, thou canst not see
Or wrong, or change, or fault in me.

The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine:
The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,
Shall never more be thine.
The silence of that dreamless sleep
I envy now too much to weep;
Nor need I to repine
That all those charms have pass'd away,
I might have watch'd through long decay.

The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd,
The leaves must drop away:
And yet it were a greater grief
To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
Than see it pluck'd to-day;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.

I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
And thou wert lovely to the last,
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.

As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity
Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught except its living years.

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ABOUT Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

I paint and sculpt female fantasy art and map faery tale adventures. I dream of beautiful women on canvas and art of exotic women.

I have illustrated for Hay House Inc.,"Women Who Do Too Much" CARDS taken from Anne Wilson Schaef's book. I also illustrated for Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications. My paintings are collected worldwide.

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