Epitaph Poems
Upon Ben Jonson
by Robert Herrick
Here lies Jonson with the rest
Of the poets; but the best.
Reader, would'st thou more have known?
Ask his story, not this stone.
That will speak what this can't tell
Of his glory. So farewell.
Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father
by Robert Burns
O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend!
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend;
The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride;
The friend of man-to vice alone a foe;
For 'ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side.'
Epitaph On &Quot;Wee Johnnie&Quot;
by Robert Burns
WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know
That Death has murder'd Johnie;
An' here his body lies fu' low;
For saul he ne'er had ony.
Epitaph For Mr. W. Cruickshank
by Robert Burns
HONEST 1 Will to Heaven's away
And mony shall lament him;
His fau'ts they a' in Latin lay,
In English nane e'er kent them.
Epitaph For James Smith
by Robert Burns
LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a',
He aften did assist ye;
For had ye staid hale weeks awa,
Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye.
Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press
To school in bands thegither,
O tread ye lightly on his grass,—
Perhaps he was your father!
My epitaph
by Peter Dr Lim
I didn't die:
the poetry
and the music
still dwells
in my inside-
a monument
so beautifully
constructed for me
there to reside
distilled with billions
......
Epitaph
by Mario Odekerken
Here lies a spirit
once vibrant and alive
now resting in the earth,
echoes of laughter linger,
memories weave through the silence,
a journey complete
Yet forever part of the wind
whispering softly
in the hearts left behind.
Epitaph
by Nastasimir Franović
Epitaph
Time will tell how you lived.
A lot will happen later.
The one you prayed to will take you.
A stone slab will decorate your headboard.
Are you afraid of death?
Do you think about the row of stone alleys?
With your memorial stone right where you stand,
......
Epitaph On A Lap-Dog
by Robert Burns
IN wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.
Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now, half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.
Epitaph On My Ever Honoured Father
by Robert Burns
O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend!
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend;
The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride;
The friend of man-to vice alone a foe;
For 'ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side.'
