EPITAPH
The last words were: “I’m dying” No! my wife, This is the Portal of the Higher Life:
I spoke no more, and neither did I weep. Next morn at nine she passed in sweetest sleep.
Sleep on! Sleep on, my Dearest; sleep your best; After such years of weariness now rest.
Or are you full awake? It may be so; Or in some happy dreamland? who doth know,
That home-made elm casket deftly wrought, Betokens love: also inspired the thought.
Although at times we might not quite agree, All knew I lived for you, and you for me.
Oh! lovely Lamport, now she’s gone from here, I have consigned thee to my cousin Vere.
I spake these words in truth, I show I sham not, Isham I am, and Isham yet I am not.
The second motto “In things transitory Resteth” (and not without some truth) “No glory,”