Grave (burial)

"Put off boasting, give up self-conceit and remember your grave."

"Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrewn, Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave!"

"GRAVE, n. A place in which the dead are laid to await the coming of the medical student."

"They say in the grave there is peace, and peace and the grave are one and the same."

"Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save."

"The foot in the grave."

"Take your delight in momentariness, Walk between dark and dark — a shining space With the grave's narrowness, though not its peace."

"They grew in beauty side by side, They filled one home with glee: Their graves are severed far and wide By mount and stream and sea."

"A piece of a Churchyard fits everybody."

"Sympathy is the softener of death, and memory of the loved and the lost is the earthly shadow of their immortality. But who turns aside amid those crowds that hurry through the thronged and noisy streets?—No one can love London better than I do; but never do I wish to be buried there. It is the best place in the world for a house, and the worst for a grave."

"Lay her in the gentle earth, Where the summer maketh mirth ; Where young violets have birth ; Where the lily bendeth. Lay her there, the lovely one ! With the rose, her funeral stone ; And for tears, such showers alone As the rain of April lendeth."

"The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace."

"The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest, And blended lie th' oppressor and th' oppressed!"

"Bear from hence his body: And mourn you for him: let him be regarded As the most noble corse that ever herald Did follow to his urn."

"The sepulchre, Wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, Hath op'd his ponderous and marble jaws."

"They bore him barefac'd on the bier; * * * * * And in his grave rain'd many a tear."

"Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!"

"Has this fellow no feeling of his business that he sings at grave-making? Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness."

"Let's choose executors and talk of wills: And yet not so, for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground?"

"Taking the measure of an unmade grave."

"The body is placed under the earth, and after a certain period there remains no vestige even of its form. This is that contemplation of inexhaustible melancholy, whose shadow eclipses the brightness of the world. The common observer is struck with dejection of the spectacle. He contends in vain against the persuasion of the grave, that the dead indeed cease to be. The corpse at his feet is prophetic of his own destiny. Those who have preceded him, and whose voice was delightful to his ear; whose touch met his like sweet and subtle fire: whose aspect spread a visionary light upon his path — these he cannot meet again."

"Peace is in the grave. The grave hides all things beautiful and good. I am a God and cannot find it there, Nor would I seek it; for, though dread revenge, This is defeat, fierce king, not victory."

"The lone couch of his everlasting sleep."

"I am gone into the fields To take what this sweet hour yields; — Reflection, you may come to-morrow, Sit by the fireside with Sorrow. — You with the unpaid bill, Despair, — You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care, — I will pay you in the grave, — Death will listen to your stave."

"Some say we're born into the grave."

"Our father's dust is left alone And silent under other snows."

"The Mohammedans use the graves of their saints and martyrs almost in the place of images."

"And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulcher unto this day."

"By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There lies a lonely grave; But no man built that sepulcher, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod And laid the dead man there."

"Inn of a traveller on his way to Jerusalem."

"Here's an acre sown indeed, With the richest royalest seed."

"Nigh to a grave that was newly made, Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade."

"See yonder maker of the dead man's bed, The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle, Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole A gentle tear."

"The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness."

"The grave is Heaven's golden gate, And rich and poor around it wait; O Shepherdess of England's fold, Behold this gate of pearl and gold!"

"Build me a shrine, and I could kneel To rural Gods, or prostrate fall; Did I not see, did I not feel. That one GREAT SPIRIT governs all. O Heaven, permit that I may lie Where o'er my corse green branches wave; And those who from life's tumults fly With kindred feelings press my grave."

"Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years."

"I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain turf should break."

"Of all The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show Who car'd about the corpse? The funeral Made the attraction, and the black the woe; There throbb'd not there a thought which pierc'd the pall."

"What's hallow'd ground? Has earth a clod Its Maker mean'd not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee."

"But an untimely grave."

"The grave's the market place."

"The solitary, silent, solemn scene, Where Cæsars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie, Blended in dust together; where the slave Rests from his labors; where th' insulting proud Resigns his powers; the miser drops his hoard: Where human folly sleeps."

"Etsi alterum pedem in sepulchro haberem."

"Alas, poor Tom! how oft, with merry heart, Have we beheld thee play the Sexton's part; Each comic heart must now be grieved to see The Sexton's dreary part performed on thee."

"Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood."

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour, The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

"Fond fool! six feet shall serve for all thy store, And he that cares for most shall find no more."

"Such graves as his are pilgrim shrines, Shrines to no code or creed confined,— The Delphian vales, the Palestines, The Meccas of the mind."

"Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days; None knew thee but to love thee Nor named thee but to praise."