Unattributed Author

Huzzaed out of my seven senses.

Huzzaed out of my seven senses.

But death is sure to kill all he can get
And all is fish with him that comes to read more

But death is sure to kill all he can get
And all is fish with him that comes to net.

A niche in the temple of Fame.

A niche in the temple of Fame.

Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious
and kind. May her touch be soft read more

Go thou, deceased, to this earth which is a mother, and spacious
and kind. May her touch be soft like that of wool, or a young
woman, and may she protect thee from the depths of destruction.
Rise above him, O Earth, do not press painfully on him, give him
good things, give him consolation, as a mother covers her child
with her cloth, cover thou him.

The grave's the market place.

The grave's the market place.