THE LOSS OF JOHN O'QUINN

JOHN MAURICE O'QUINN
1941 - 2009

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Frye

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For All Who Mourn

by Arthur Guiterman

That he was near to you
so many a year
But darkens you distress.
Would you he were
less worthy and less dear
That you might grieve the less?

He was a golden font
that freely poured
What goldenly endures,
And though that font be gone,
its bounty stored
and treasured,
Still is yours.

The past is deathless.
Souls are wells too deep
To spend their purest gains.
All that he gave to you
is yours to keep
While memory remains.

Who never had and lost
forlorn are they
Far more that you and I
Who had and have
Judge not the price we pay
For love that cannot die.


Those who knew him were truly blessed. The world was better because he walked in it. I pray that his legacy of generosity will continue on. God Speed, John.