EY bear him to his resting-place— In slow procession sweeping by; I follow at a stranger's space; His kindred they, his sweetheart I
Unchanged my gown of garish dye, Though sable-sad is their attire; But they stand round with griefless eye, W...
The ones his age who shook my hand on their way out sent fear along my arm like heroin
These weren’t men mute about their feelings, or what’s a body language for
And I, the glib one, who’d stood with my back to my father’s body and prais...
Bobó is dead, but don't take off your hat
You can't explain why there's no consolation
We cannot pin a butterfly upon the Admiralty spire -- we'd only crush it
The squares of windows no matter where one looks on every side
A
IL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young,
Amidst her tears the Funeral Chant a mournful mother sung
—"Ianthis
The Day that Youth had died,
There came to his grave-side, In decent mourning, from the country’s ends, Those scatter’d friends Who had lived the boon companions of his prime,
And laughed with him and sung with him and wasted, In feast a...
And now the bell, — the bell She had so often heard by night and day And listened to with solemn pleasure, E'en as a living voice, — Rung its remorseless toll for her, So young, so beautiful, so good
Decrepit age, and vigorous life,
And ...
Let us begin and carry up this corpse, Singing together
Leave we the common crofts, the vulgar thorpes Each in its tether Sleeping safe on the bosom of the plain, Cared-for till cock-crow: Look out if yonder be not day again Rimming the rock-...
I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.
At Viscount Nelson’s lavish funeral,
While the mob milled and yelled about St Paul’s,
A General chatted with an Admiral:“One of your colleagues,
Sir, remarked