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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.
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.
I was able to go to Iraq.. to the place my son died..
and fill my promise to my wife read more
I was able to go to Iraq.. to the place my son died..
and fill my promise to my wife to put a crucifix on
the spot.. and bring home some of the blood
drenched dirt..and plant a white rose bush in it
Military Families Speak Out.. broadcast on C Span.
We weep over the graves of infants and the little ones taken from us by death; but an early grave read more
We weep over the graves of infants and the little ones taken from us by death; but an early grave may be the shortest way to heaven.
Of all
The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show
Who car'd about the corpse? read more
Of all
The fools who flock'd to swell or see the show
Who car'd about the corpse? The funeral
Made the attraction, and the black the woe;
There throbb'd not there a thought which pierc'd the pall.
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
read more
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike th' inevitable hour,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
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.
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,