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GRAVES
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[ Also see Cemeteries Churchyards Death End Epitaphs Eternity Funerals Futurity Life Monuments Mortality Mourning Oblivion Resurrection Seriousness Tombs Undertakers ]

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

We must be patient; but I cannot choose but weep, to think they should lay him i' the cold ground.
      - William Shakespeare

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.
      - William Shakespeare, Coriolanus
         (First Lord at V, vi)

Let me not burst in ignorance, but tell
  Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,
    Have burst their cerements, why the sepulchre
      Wherein we saw thee quietly interred
        Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws
          To cast thee up again.
      - William Shakespeare,
        Hamlet Prince of Denmark
         (Hamlet at I, iv)

They bore him barefaced on the bier
  [Hey non nony, nony, hey nony]
    And in his grave rained many a tear--
      Fare you well, my dove!
      - William Shakespeare,
        Hamlet Prince of Denmark
         (Ophelia at IV, v)

(Hamlet:) Has this fellow no feeling of his business, that 'a sings at grave-making?
  (Horatio:) Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
      - William Shakespeare,
        Hamlet Prince of Denmark
         (Hamlet & Horatio at V, i)

Lay her i' th' earth,
  And from her fair and unpolluted flesh
    May violets spring!
      - William Shakespeare,
        Hamlet Prince of Denmark
         (Laertes at V, i)

Thou canst not speak of that thou does not feel.
  Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love,
    An hour but married, Tybalt murdered,
      Doting like me, and like me banished,
        Them mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,
          And fall upon the ground, as I do now,
            Taking the measure of an unmade grave.
      - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
         (Romeo at III, iii)

Gilded tombs do worms infold.
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Merchant of Venice
         (Morocco at II, vii)

Let's choose executors and talk of wills.
  And yet not so--for what can we bequeath,
    Save our deposed bodies to the ground?
      - William Shakespeare,
        The Tragedy of King Richard the Second
         (King Richard at III, ii)

The lone couch of his everlasting sleep.
      - Percy Bysshe Shelley, Alastor (l. 57)

O heart, and mind, and thoughts! what thing do you
  Hope to inherit in the grave below?
      - Percy Bysshe Shelley,
        Sonnet--Ye Hasten to the Dead!

The reconciling grave swallows distinction first, that made us foes; there all lie down in peace together.
      - Thomas Southerne (Southern)

The grave
  Is but the threshold of eternity.
      - Robert Southey,
        Vision of the Maid of Orleans (bk. II)

Here may thy storme-bett vessell safely ryde;
  This is the port of rest from troublous toyle,
    The worlde's sweet inn from paine and wearisome turmoyle.
      - Edmund Spenser

There is an acre sown with royal seed.
      - Jeremy Taylor, Holy Living and Dying
         (ch. I)

Kings have no such couch as thine,
  As the green that folds thy grave.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, A Dirge (st. 6)

Our father's dust is left alone
  And silent under other snows.
      - Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam (pt. CV)

The grave is a very small hillock, but we can see farther from it, when standing on it, than from the highest mountain in all the world.
      - Friedrich August Tholuck

What is the grave?
  'Tis a cool, shady harbor, where the Christian
    Wayworn and weary with life's rugged road,
      Forgetting all life's sorrows, joys, and pains,
        Lays his poor body down to rest--
          Sleeps on--and wakes in heaven.
      - Unknown

Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound.
      - Isaac Watts,
        Hymns and Spiritual Songs--Funeral Thoughts
         (bk. II, vol. IX, hymn 63)

. . . The low green tent
  Whose curtain never outward swings.
      - John Greenleaf Whittier, Snow-Bound

But the grandsire's chair is empty,
  The cottage is dark and still,
    There's a nameless grave on the battle-field,
      And a new one under the hill.
      - William Winter, After All

. . . In shepherd's phrase
  With one foot in the grave.
      - William Wordsworth, Michael

Dark lattice! letting in eternal day!
      - Edward Young


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