The Glory of Life is Love
The Glory of Life is not that it endures forever,
but that, for a time,
it includes so much that is beautiful.
It is a tree to those who grasp it,
and happy are all who retain it.
Its ways are ways of pleasantness,
and all its paths are peaceful.
We do not demand that the flower shall never die,
nor that the song shall never end.
Nor would we be angry with life because one day its beauty will be dust,
its music silent, and all its laughter and tears forgotten.
Life, the reality, is ours: we would shape it as nobly as we can.
We will not linger, like timid sailors in port,
but will live dangerously, devoting ourselves with vigour
to what seems to us good, beautiful and true.
The Glory of Life is Love. Unending.
This reading formed part of the Fernlea House commemorative celebration held on the 8th of July 2012 to honour the memory of those guests, staff and family members who had died over the past 12 months.
I dedicate this reading to the memory of my aunt, Anne, who died of cancer on the 16th of July 2012.

Anne and I took great pleasure in wandering around gardens which opened during the Festival of Gardens held every two years in and around Castlemaine.
We lingered and admired the gardens lovingly created by their owners,
We sniffed perfumed blooms and picked dead heads from the irises,
We sat on garden seats, gazing dreamily into the distance deep in contemplation,
We chatted to the owners, patted their cats, dogs and alpacas and startled the goldfish,
We sipped cups of tea and sampled scones and slices.
Anne’s day was not complete until she returned to the car laden with the plants she had purchased.
