Non-Religious Funeral Readings

For steadiness

Invictus. William Ernest Henley, 1875, published 1888. Read this one for a person who did not bend.

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 unbow'd.

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.

For gratitude

The closing lines of Song of Myself. Walt Whitman, 1855. For a person who belonged to the outdoors, there may be no truer reading.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.

For the ache

Song. Christina Rossetti, written 1848. Gentler than Remember, and shorter, for a reader whose voice may not hold.

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget.

Readings still under copyright, and where to find them

Some of the most asked-for secular readings are newer and remain their authors' property, so we describe them rather than reprint them.

W. H. Auden's Funeral Blues, the poem that begins by stopping all the clocks, carries the full weight of losing the person who was your compass. You will find it in his Collected Poems, in most libraries.

Mary Oliver's poems on attention and wild geese and what to do with one precious life are read at many celebrations of life. Her collection Devotions gathers the best loved.

Reading from the book itself at the service, borrowed or owned, honors both the poet and your person.

Reading aloud, practically

Print the reading in large type, eighteen point or more. Read it aloud twice at home first. Decide now who steps in if your voice goes, and put their copy in their hands before the service begins. Walking to the front with a printed page is steadier than a phone.