Quaint Epitaphs Part 4

John Daby.

Tis but a few whole days amount To three score years and ten; And all beyond that short account Is sorrow toil and pain.

Our vitals with laborious strife Bear up the crazy load, And drag these poor remains of life Along the toilsome road.

BOSTON. (Granary Burying Ground.)

Here I lie bereft of breath Because a cough carried me off; Then a coffin they carried me off in.

DORCHESTER.

This world's a city, full of crooked streets; And Death the market place where all men meets.

If life were merchandize that men could buy The rich would live and none but poor would die.

Of pneumonia supervening consumption complicated with other diseases, the main symptom of which was insanity.

Submit, submitted to her heavenly King Being a flower of the etheral Spring-- Near three years old she died--In Heaven to wait The year was sixteen hundred forty eight.

ROWLEY.

Ezekiel Rogers, Minister Died in 1660.

With the youth he took great pains, and was a tree of knowledge laden with fruit which the children could reach.

Epitaph of Rev. Jonathan Mitchel, pastor of the first church in Cambridge. Died July 9, 1668.

Here lies the darling of his time Mitchel expired in his prime.

Who four years short of forty seven Was found full ripe and plucked for Heaven.

SOUTH DENNIS.

Of seven sons the Lord his father gave, He was the fourth who found a watery grave.

Fifteen days had pa.s.sed since the circ.u.mstance occurred, When his body was found and decently interred.

VINEYARD HAVEN.

John and Lydia, that blooming pair, A whale killed him and her body lies here.

CHATHAM.

There were three brothers went to sea Who were never known to wrangle Holmes Hole--cedar pole Crinkle, crinkle crangle.

Three brothers started for Holmes Hole in an open boat for cedar poles, and on the pa.s.sage were killed by lightning, represented by the _crinkle, crinkle, crangle_.

Time was I stood as thou doest now And viewed the dead as thou doest me.

E'er long thou'l lie as low as I And others stand to look on thee.

NORTON.

A blacksmith's epitaph composed by himself.

My sledge and hammer lie reclined, My bellows too have lost their wind, My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, And in the dust my vice is laid.

My iron spent, my coal is gone, My nails are drove--my work is done.

BROCKTON.

Indulgent world I bid adieu.

Farewell, dear friends, farewell to you.

No more kindness can I show, To any creature here below.

I am invited to my tomb, To sleep awhile till Jesus come.

WAYLAND.

Here lies the body of Dr Hayward, A man who never voted.

Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.

CHELSEA.

Agreeable to the memory of Mrs Alinda Tewksbury.

She was not a beleiver in the Christian idolitry.