"When you are in your grave, the flowers blowing shall hang their heads and sicken in their grove. Beauty will fade and wither at your going, oh my own love, oh my own love." (M. Kennedy title unknown) Jemeppe-sur-Meuse (B)
“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)
“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)
“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)