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,

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

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

O how small a portion of earth will hold us when we are dead, who ambitiously seek after the whole read more

O how small a portion of earth will hold us when we are dead, who ambitiously seek after the whole world while we are living.

He that unburied lies wants not his hearse,
For unto him a tomb's the Universe.

He that unburied lies wants not his hearse,
For unto him a tomb's the Universe.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.

A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.