Ghosts of Portables Past Portable Graveyard (II)

From my hour of birth;
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth

Rural Funerals –Washington Irving

Death is a dialogue between
The spirit and the dust
“Dissolve,” says Death
The Spirit:
“Sir, I have another trust.”

Death Is A Dialogue Between
–Emily Dickinson

Sing o’er Horace
for ere long
Death will come and mar the song
Then shall Wilson and Gotiere
Never sing or play more here

A Lyric to Mirth –Robert Herrick

So then thou hast lost
the dregs of life
The prey of worms
my body being dead;
The coward conquest of a wretch’s knife
Too base of thee to be remembered
But be contented when that fell arrest

The Sonnets LXXIV –William Shakespeare

Thy soul shall find itself alone
Alone of all on earth, unknown
The cause, but none are near to pry



Visit Of The Dead –Edgar Allen Poe

Years to come seemed waste of breath
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life
this death

An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
–William Butler Yeats

How strange it is
that man on earth should roam,
And lead a life of woe
but not forsake
His rugged path;
nor dare he view alone
His future doom which is
but to awake

On Death –John Keats

And I guard thy gates in fear
Of words thou canst not hear
Of peril and jeopardy
Of signs thou canst not see
And thou sayest ’tis ill that I came?



Evil Land –Rudyard Kipling

Lastly I ask, now old and chill
If aught of him remain unperished still
And find, in me alone
a feeble spark
Dying amid the dark


His Immortality –Thomas Hardy