What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Amos Fortune angels ashes Beneath this stone blooming body of Robert bones born Boston bred Brockton brother Christ Churchyard cough carried crangle crinkle dead dear devil cried died of late died the devil dodged dust e'er earth Elizabeth epitaph Erected Farewell Fate father and mother friends Good-night grave Grim death took H Here lies Heaven's gate heavenly Holmes Hole hope hundred husband inscription Jane Jesus Jim Shaw John Hill John Quebecca JOSIAH HAINES kingdom of Heaven Kittery laid Lamb last trump lies buried lies John lies my wife lies old lies the body life's lived Lord Martin Elmrod Mary memory NATHAN DAVIS ne'er peace pleased when sinners poor Portland precentor Sacred Sexton sinner cease Smith soul stone Lies Stranger pause SUSAN BLAKE SUSAN DARLING SAFFORD thee Thomas Thomas Smith thou tomb tombstone tree Underneath whale widow Witherbee wives youth
Page 29 - THE BODY of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Printer, (like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stript of its lettering and gilding) lies here food for worms ; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition, corrected and amended by THE AUTHOR.
Page 31 - How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot ; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.
Page 54 - Saragossa: Here lies John Quebecca, precentor to My Lord the King. When he is admitted to the choir of angels, whose society he will embellish, and where he will distinguish himself by his powers of song, God shall say to the angels, " Cease, ye calves ! and let me hear John Quebecca, the precenior of My Lord the King...
Page 51 - I've seen enough of thee And now am careless what thou say'st of me Thy smiles I court not nor thy frowns I fear My cares are past my head lies quiet here What faults you saw in me take care to shun And look at home enough there's to be done...
Page 20 - My sledge and hammer lie reclined, My bellows, too, have lost their wind; . My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, And in the dust my vice is laid. My coal is spent, my iron's gone, My nails are drove, my work is done ; My fire-dried corpse lies here at rest, And, smoke-like, soars up to be bless'd.
Page 38 - Here lies Jane Smith, wife of Thomas Smith, marble cutter. This monument was erected by her husband as a tribute to her memory and a specimen of his work. Monuments of the same style 350 dollars." "They gave Wellington a glorious funeral. It took six men to carry the beer.
Page 6 - Our life is but a Winter's day — Some only breakfast and away. Others to dinner stay and are full fed, The oldest man but sups, and goes to bed. Large is his debt who lingers out the day : Who goes the soonest has the least to pay.
Page 5 - Here lies John Higley, whose father and mother were drowned in their passage from America. Had they both lived, they would have been buried here.(!) Here lies the body of John Mound, Lost at sea and never found.