Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar:

Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home…

In Shannon, the spirit, which is of God, spread its beauty, its joy, its love all about her.

However, as it was destined to do, the end of her earthly life came upon her.

We who loved her should not be sad, should not regret her passing, rather may we take heart from the finish of the poem:

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from (our) sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

We will miss you, Shannon. We will always love you. But we will never mourn you. You once again are home.