And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against
Bethpeor: but no man knoweth read more

And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against
Bethpeor: but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.

Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down;
Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,
read more

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

One foot in the grave.

One foot in the grave.

The grave is still the best shelter against the storms of destiny.

The grave is still the best shelter against the storms of destiny.

What's hallowed ground? Has earth a clod
Its Maker mean'd not should be trod
By man, the read more

What's hallowed 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.

I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country
churchyard, than in the tombs of the read more

I would rather sleep in the southern corner of a little country
churchyard, than in the tombs of the Capulets.

I gazed upon the glorious sky
And the green mountains round,
And thought that when I came read more

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.

The grave is Heaven's golden gate,
And rich and poor around it wait;
O Shepherdess of England's read more

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!
- William Blake,

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

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