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Robert Louis Stevenson
- "Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill." -- This is the epitaph Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) wrote for himself. It is carved on his gravestone at Vailima in Samoa.
www.consolatio.com › 2008 › 04Robert Louis Stevenson: "Here he lies where he longed to be"
Epitaph ("Here where he lies...") Poem ("Duck, riding the reservoir...") JSTOR and the Poetry Foundation are collaborating to digitize, preserve, and extend access to Poetry. April 1959 | Beth Bentley, Etta Blum, Turner Cassity, René Char, Robert Creeley, David Galler, John Hollander, Allen Kanfer, Kenneth Lohf, Frederick….
Apr 21, 2008 · This be the verse you grave for me; "Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill." -- This is the epitaph Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) wrote for himself. It is carved on his gravestone at Vailima in Samoa.
Home. > Poetry. > Robert Burns. > Epitaph on my own Friend. Robert Burns. An honest man here lies at rest, As e’er God with His image blest: The friend of man, the friend of truth; The friend of age, and guide of youth: Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d, Few heads with knowledge so inform’d: If there’s another world, he lives in bliss;
Here lies Robert Fergusson, Poet. written in 1787. No sculptur'd marble here, nor pompous lay, 'No story'd urn nor animated bust;' This simple stone directs pale Scotia's way To pour her sorrows o'er her Poet's dust.
“Here lies One Whose Name was writ in Water” Joseph Severn letter to John Taylor, p. 1; Joseph Severn letter to John Taylor, p. 2; Joseph Severn letter to John Taylor, p. 3; John Keats's lock of hair; Small paper packet "My name will not appear" Manuscript Keats Material, p.1; Manuscript Keats Material, p.2; Manuscript Keats Material, p.3
1824. When some proud Son of Man returns to Earth, Unknown to Glory but upheld by Birth, The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe, And storied urns record who rests below: When all is done, upon the Tomb is seen. Not what he was, but what he should have been. But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Apr 3, 2021 · The poem is ‘An Epitaph’ by Edgar A. Guest, first published in the Detroit Free Press on 1st October 1916 in Guest’s ‘Breakfast Table Chat’ column. An Epitaph. Here lies the body Of William Jay, Who died maintaining His right of way. He was in the right As he sped along, But he’s just as dead As if he’d been wrong.
