Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yes, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like the insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. Author ~William Shakespeare A light from the family is gone A voice we loved is stilled A place is vacant in the home Which never can be filled We have to mourn the loss of one We would’ve loved to keep But God who surely loved her best Has finally made her sleep ~Author Unknown She is not lost our dearest love, Nor has she travelled far, Just stepped inside home’s loveliest room And left the door ajar. ~Author Unknown