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For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.
For I know that thou wilt bring me to death, and to the house
appointed for all living.
Nigh to a grave that was newly made,
Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade.
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 read more
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.
Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.
Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.
By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
read more
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.
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,
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.
Build me a shrine, and I could kneel
To rural Gods, or prostrate fall;
Did I not read more
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.