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amid angels awful beautiful Behold beneath billows body brave breath bright brow burial buried catacombs cemetery Christian church crowned Cypress Hills dark dead death deep dust earth Effie Gray epitaph eternal eyes flowers fold friends funeral fusio gaze George Steers glorious glory glow grave grief ground Guiderius hallowed hand heart Heaven honor hope human Inscribed inscriptions John Custis Land latives light live look Lord Byron majestic marble memory Michael Wigglesworth mighty monuments Mount Vernon mourn mourner nations night noble o'er radiant rest roll Ross Wallace sacred sepulchre shore shrine sing sleep smile solemn sorrow soul spirit spot stars stone sweet tears tempest tender thee thine thou hast thought tion tomb trees vessel via Dolorosa voice wave weep William Ross Wallace Williamsburgh winds wings wonder York Yacht Club
Página 221 - THE muffled drum's sad roll has beat, The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet, That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping ground, Their silent tents are spread ; And glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.
Página 176 - ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die, Before this mortal shall assume Its Immortality! I saw a vision in my sleep. That gave my spirit strength to sweep Adown the gulf of Time ! I saw the last of human mould, That shall Creation's death behold, As Adam saw her prime ! The Sun's eye had a sickly glare, The Earth with age was wan.
Página 161 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end: Were this frail world our only rest. Living or dying, none were blest. 2 Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime Where life is not a breath, Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward to expire.
Página 205 - For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet...
Página 141 - I know his face is hid Under the coffin lid ; Closed are his eyes : cold is his forehead fair; My hand that marble felt ; O'er it in prayer I knelt ; Yet my heart whispers that — he is not there!
Página 102 - midst the chase, on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell ; Each lonely scene shall thee restore ; For thee the tear be duly shed ; Belov'd till life can charm no more, And mourn'd till Pity's self be dead.
Página 83 - THE BODY of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, Printer, (like the cover of an old book, its contents torn out, and stript of its lettering and gilding) lies here food for worms ; yet the work itself shall not be lost, for it will (as he believed) appear once more in a new and more beautiful edition, corrected and amended by THE AUTHOR.
Página 143 - And larger movements of the unfettered mind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here? The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore, And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, Shall it expire with life, and be no more?
Página 142 - I'm with his mother, offering up our prayer, Whate'er I may be saying, I am, in spirit, praying For our boy's spirit, though he is not there ! Not there ! Where, then, is he ? The form I used to see Was but the raiment that he used to wear. The grave, that now doth press Upon that cast-off dress, Is but his wardrobe locked — he is not there!
Página 99 - ... no storm, not of force to burst the orb, can overturn it; its branches spread wide; they stretch their protecting arms broader and broader, and its top is destined to reach the heavens. We are not deceived. There is no delusion here. No age will come, in which the American revolution will appear less than it is, one of the greatest events in human history.