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• Death rides on every passing breeze, He lurks in every flower.
  -- Reginald Heber (1783-1826) -- At a Funeral, No. i...
• Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
  -- Reginald Heber (1783-1826) -- Epiphany...
• Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile.
  -- Reginald Heber (1783-1826) -- Missionary Hym...
• By cool Siloam's shady rill How sweet the lily grows!
  -- Reginald Heber (1783-1826) -- First Sunday after Epiphany, No. ii...
• Thou art gone from my gaze like a beautiful dream, And I seek thee in vain by the meadow and stream.
  -- George Linley (1798-1865) -- Thou art gone...
• Yet spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee, But like thine own eagle that soars to the sun Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee A name which before thee no mortal hath won.
  Tho' nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle, No more on thy steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plai...
• Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
  -- Henry W. Longfellow (1807-1882) -- A Psalm of Life...
• Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so.
  -- John Donne (1572-1631), "Death, be not proud...
• Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead?
  Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?...