Quaint Epitaphs

For fear she might find her way out.

He first departed, she a little tried to live without him. Liked it not and died.

His illness lay not in one part
But o'er his frame it spread.
The fatal disease was in his heart
And water in his head.

In memory of Elizabeth Taylor

Could blooming years and modesty and all thats pleasing to the eye,

Against grim death been a defence,

Elizabeth had not gone hence.

Died when young and full of promise
Of whooping cough our Thomas.

She lived with her husband fifty years
And died in the confident hope of a better life.
Stop dear parent cast your eye,

And here you see your children lie.
Though we are gone one day before,
You may be cold in a minute more.
Little Teddy, fare thee well,

Safe from earth in Heaven to dwell.
Almost Cherub here below,
Altogether angel now.

On a tombstone for man and wife

In sunny days and stormy weather,
In youth, and age, we clung together.
We lived and loved, laughed and cried
Together—and almost together died.

Windsor.

Behold! I come as a thief

Death loves a shining mark.
In this case he had it.

Stowe.

Erected by a widower in memory of his two wives

This double call is laid to all,
Let none surprise or wonder.
But to the youth it speaks a truth,
In accents loud as thunder.

Stranger pause as you pass by;
My thirteen children with me lie.
See their faces how they shine
Like blossoms on a fruitful vine.

A rum cough carried him off

Here lies the body of old Uncle David,
Who died in the hope of being sa-ved.
Where he's gone or how he fares,
Nobody knows and nobody cares.

The body that lies buried here
By lightning fell, death's sacrifice,
To him Elijah's fate was given
He rode on flames of fire to heaven.

Stay, reader, drop upon this stone
One pitying tear and then be gone:
A handsome pile of flesh and blood
Is here sunk down in its first mud.

I was somebody—who? is no business of yours

My wife from me departed
And robbed me like a knave;
Which caused me broken hearted
To sink into this grave.
My children took an active part,
To doom me did contrive;
Which stuck a dagger in my heart
That I could not survive.

Pious

Open thine eyes Lord
I come! I come!

Sacred to the memory of three twins

My glass is run; yours is running.
Remember death and judgment coming.

This stone was got to keep this lot.