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Here are some poems that I found that really fit the life and death theme of this story. I do not own any of these poems, they belong to their writers, which are credited under their titles. I am just compiling some poems which fit the mood of my story, this is merely to accentuate the feel of my plot, I do not claim these poems as mine in any way.

𝗶. ꧁ 𝔹𝕖𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕀 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 ꧂
{𝙱𝚢 𝙴𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝙳𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚗}

Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

𝗶𝗶. ꧁ 𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕝𝕝 ꧂
{𝙱𝚢 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚂𝚌𝚘𝚝𝚝-𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍}

Death is nothing at all.
It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened.

Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you,
and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval,
somewhere very near,
just round the corner.

All is well.
Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!

𝗶𝗶𝗶. ꧁ 𝔸 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕪 (𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕪𝕞𝕚𝕠𝕟)꧂
{𝙱𝚢 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙺𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜}

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.