Vashti Vincent died in 2005 at the age of 95.  At her funeral service a poem was read out that was attributed to her, and also some words that she had written at the end of a letter to a friend of hers....

The crows are coming back again,

I hear their throaty call;

The leaves are turning gold again,

And soon we’ll see them fall.


The butterflies still flutter white,

From rose to clover sweet,

And in the sky pass clouds all white,

Like heavenly swans in flight.


The cricket has ceased to rattle loud,

The hum of bees has gone;

Now ‘tis the wind that blows so loud

And the nights are cold and long.


Though winter storms in course must come,

Nature grows old and grey,

I know in my heart that spring will come

With its radiant month of May.


The thoughts below are also thought to be Vashti’s own words, for they were written at the end of a letter to a friend of hers...



Let the past be just a quiet pool of true achievement. 

Let no bitterness or unforgiveness mar its treasures – for these treasures are pure gold to hold and burnish with our love in times of stress and solitude.