God looked roughly his gardenAnd uncovered an empty place, He climate looked under upon the earthAnd experienced your tired face.He put his arms approximately youAnd lifted you come rest.God’s garden should be beautifulHe constantly takes the best.He knew the you were sufferingHe knew you to be in pain.He knew that you would certainly neverGet well on planet again.He witnessed the road was acquiring roughAnd the hills were difficult to climb.So that closed your weary eyelidsAnd whispered, ‘Peace bethine’.It damaged our mind to lose youBut friend didn’t go alone, For part of us went with youThe work God dubbed you home.




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Im confused why this poem have the right to be found on the web apparently by two different authors - no crediting the other.


It"s a beautiful poem and one I have chosen for my husband. However, the way the city is narrated is simply abysmal. It is supposed to it is in narrated v feeling and love. No a harsh montone. It ruins it completely.


ns think this is a different poem. The city by Dorothy Francis Gurney begins, " THE mr God planted a garden: In the first white work of the world, "


ns would prefer to usage this poem in a publication I am writing about my son who passed native this life when he to be 28 years old. May I have actually your permission?


might you give me the surname of the writer of this city please therefore I deserve to make contact with him/her. Clearly it isn"t created by you.


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