“This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies,
And Lads and Girls;
Was laughter and ability and sighing,
And frocks and curls.”
(E. Dickinson in A Cemetery)
“Ye shall be changed, ye shall be changed
In a twinkling of an eye, when the last trumpet blows
The dead will arise and burst out of your clothes
And ye shall be changed.”
(Bob Dylan in Ye Shall Be Changed)
(“To know the truth about the issue of the dead read the bible”)
“We do not play on graves
because there isn’t room.
Besides it isn’t even.
It slants and people come
and put a flower on it
and hang their faces so.
We’re fearing that their hearts
will drop and crush our pretty play.
And so we move as far as enemies away,
just looking round to see
how far it is occasionally.”
(E. Dickinson in We do not play on graves)
“Lay this tired head on thy breast!
Flowers from the night-dew are closing.
Pilgrims and mourners reposing.
Mother, oh ! sing me to rest!”
(F.D. Hemans in Mother! oh, sing me to rest)
“Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.”
(M.E. Frye in Do not stand at my grave and weep)