Between the swimming-pool and cricket-ground
How straight the crematorium driveway lies!
And little puffs of smoke without a sound
Show what we loved dissolving in the skies,
Dear hands and feet and laughter-lighted face
And silk that hinted at the body’s grace.

But no-one seems to know quite what to say
(Friends are so altered by the passing years):
“Well, anyhow, it’s not so cold today”—
And thus we try to dissipate our fears.
“I am the Resurrection and the Life”:
Strong, deep and painful, doubt inserts the knife.