Equal warning given

From Old Burying Ground, Shutesbury, MA:

Beneath our feet and over our head,
Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven.

Behind us, unseen

From First Church Cemetery, Ludlow, MA:

Our life how short a groan a sigh
We live and then begin to die
Death steals upon us while we're green
Behind us digs a grave unseen.

An early rose

From North Sunderland Cemetery, Sunderland, MA:

Just like an early rose
I've seen an infant bloom:
But death perhaps before it blows
Will lay it in the tomb.

A thousand children

From Quabbin Park Cemetery, Ware, MA:

A thousand children young
as Love Call'd by death to
hear their doom.

The glass that runs for thee.

From a Rt. 9 cemetery in Savoy, MA:

Oh stop kind reader Lend an ear
Think on the dust that slumbers here
And while you read the fate of me
Think of the glass that runs for thee.

Tir na Nog

From a Rt. 9 cemetery in Savoy, MA:

Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands
And where the old grow young again
I'll clasp my mother's hands.

One spring day

Route 32 Cemetery in Petersham, MA:

Died by accident, May 16, 1975

The fading bloom

From First Church Cemetery, Templeton, MA:

Your rosy cheeks in a few weeks,
May be as pale as I;
My early fate doth intimate
That blooming youth must die.

To cull undying flowers

From Three Rivers Cemetery, Three Rivers, MA:

He crossed the shining river,
The silver sparkling tide,
To cull undying flowers
That bloom the other side.

Scalped by Indians

From a cemetery in Northfield, MA:

In memory of Nathaniel Dickinson
who was killed + scalped by indians
at Pochague Hill Apr. 15, 1747
His body was buried in an unknown grave near this spot.

Ax of God

From Gill Cemetery, Gill, MA:

Like crowded forest trees we stand
And some are mark'd to fall
The ax will smite at God's command
And soon shall smite us all.

We shall sit in silence.

From Riverside Cemetery, Sunderland, MA:

I shall come back again,
returning amid summer bloom,
and take you, hand in hand,
through our familiar hills,
where the mountain laurel affords
quiescent shade to the short grass;
and we shall watch from the topmost hill,
the river flowing south to the sea.
There we shall sit in silence
through the odd rush
of the warm afternoon,
the sun's unnoticed disappearance,
the lingering, reflected twilight
caught in the high purple hills
from the light of the recent sun,
the swallows' vanishing flight.

Without a moment's warning

From Depot Road Cemetery, Leverett. MA:

In memory of the Rev. Henry Williams A.M.
who was the first ordained minister
of the Church of Christ in Leverett.
He was an ardent preacher,
eminent in prayer.
A faithful minister,
and of truly evangelical sentiments.
Borne down with infirmity and pain,
which he long endured with Christian
patience and submission, he expired
suddenly in his chair, without a
moment's warning, Nov. 27, 1811
Aged 66
"Blessed is that servant, whom his Lord, when he
cometh, shall find so doing."

Pale, concluding winter

From First Church Cemetery, Templeton, MA:

Behold fond man!
See here thy pictured life! Pass some few years;
Thy flowering spring thy summers ardent strength,
Thy sober autumn fading into age,
And pale concluding winter comes at last,
And shuts the scene.

The scythe of death, now near it sweeps!

From New Salem Cemetery, New Salem, MA:

Deeply lamented, as he had lived much respected.
Among the dead, fond memory weeps
O'er graves of lov'd associates gone:
The scythe of death, now near it sweeps!
Twill be our turn to fall anon.

In the shade of elm trees

From Riverside Cemetery, Sunderland, MA:

She rests under the shade
of elm trees
And the winter snows
that she loved.

[While at this cemetery this morning I met Julie, the niece of Batman/AdamWest(!). Julie, it was nice talking with you! Happy geocaching!]

While we sigh, we sink.

From a cemetery at Routes 19 + 20, Brimfield, MA:

Man's home is in the grave;
Here dwells the multitude:
We gaze around;
We read their monuments;
We sigh, + while we sigh, we sink.

The hidden cause

From Petersham Center Cemetery, Petersham, MA:

In memory of
Doctor John Flint,
member of the M.M. Society,
who died of spotted fever
Feb 27th 1810 AET. 31
This spot of earth envelopes the remains
of a man, whose constant + unremitted
endeavors were uniformly, + indefa-
tigably exerted to meliorate the con-
dition of suffering humanity; and
while actually engaged in investigating
the hidden causes + obviating the dead
-ly tendancy of a novel insidious, + des-
tructive malady, fell a victim to its
banefull influence.
In the meridian of life, + in the
morning of usefullness, after an ill-
ness of but nine hours, he was sud-
denly swept to the grave.
As an husband + parent, he was
kind tender, + affectionate; as a
neighbor benevolent; as a man, ir-
reproachable; + as a friend inestimable
Also
Lydia, AE 8 years who died Feb 27
and
Sally, AE 2 years who died March 1
1810
The same dreadfull disease which robbed a
flourishing + happy fammily of a husband +
father, snatched from the mother's bleeding
bosom these blooming children.

Through every glade

Cemetery at Routes 19 and 20, Brimfield, MA:

Life is a dream an empty shade,
Persuade by death through every glade.
No age nor sercumstance nor place
Can screen us from death's cold embrace.

We must moulder...

From West Cemetery, Amherst, MA:

The blooming cheek
The sparkling eye
From death's arrest could not save me
Youth and beauty both must die
Like we must moulder in the grave.

Of what is past, or passing, or to come

Some one-liners from Wildwood Cemetery, Amherst, MA:

Death has made his Darkness beautiful with thee.

There is no death. What seems so is transition.

Rejoice! We move to meet the sun!

Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

When I awake I am still with thee.

On a winter beach

From Wellfleet, MA:

In memory of
David, son of John
+ Marcy Hawes. Who froze
on Norset Beach, Jany 13th;
1809: in his 20 year.

Mortal frames

An uplifting epitaph from Truro, MA:

How feble is our mortal frame
What dying worms we are.

Planted in the earth

From Dwight Cemetery, Belchertown, MA:

Lafayette W. Goodell
Son of Asahel and
Cynthia Newell Goodell
1851-1920
A student of nature
Founder of Pansy Park

The weary journey

From Montague Road Cemetery, Montague, MA:

Thousands of journeys night
+ days, I've travel'd weary
on the way, to heal the
sick, but now I'm gon, a journey
nev'r to return.
Doctor Silas Ball
who died July 15th, 1807
AET. 53

The insatiate archer

From Pine Nook Cemetery, South Deerfield, MA:

Insatiate archer, could not one suffic'd
Thy shaft flew twice + twice my peace was slain.
But God is just.
Sacred to the memory of Lucretia, second wife
of Elihu Clary, who departed this life
Aug. 24, 1828 AE tat 42

Gently shuts the eye of day.

From an unnamed cemetery on Route 32A, Hardwick, MA:

So fades a summer cloud away
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er,
So gently shuts the eye of day,
So dies a wave along the shore.

15 minutes

New Salem Cemetery, New Salem, MA:

In fifteen minutes from feble health
God took her life and stop't her breath.

It is time.

From Old Hadley Cemetery, Hadley, MA:

There was a time, -that time is past,
When Youth! I bloom'd like thee:
A time will come, -tis coming fast,
When thou shalt fade like me.

In dusty beds

From Old Deerfield Cemetery, Deerfield, MA:

And when the last
Trumpet sounds
Arise come forth ye
Dead, the call shall
be to them + all, that
Sleep in dusty beds.

From death's arrest

From West Cemetery, Amherst, MA:

The blooming cheek
The sparkling eye
From death's arrest could not me save
Youth and beauty both must die
Like we must moulder in the grave.

The wagonn

From Chestnut Hill Road cemetery, Royalston, MA:

In memory of Mrs. Margarett Thomson
wife of Mr. Jonas Thomson
who was kill'd by a
fall from her wagonn
May 13, 1824, aged 77.

A hunting accident

From First Congregational Church, Beckett, MA:

In memory of Luke Viets
who was shot suppos'd for a deer
and died in Becket Oct 21st 1757
in the 15th year of his age.

Death is the gate.

From Westminster, VT:

Why should we start and fear to die?
What tim'rous worms we mortals are.
Death is the gate of endless joy
And yet we dread to enter there.

Cold languor

From Westminster, VT:

Cold languor chills my falling tears
And speechless ardor throbs in vain
Desiring death awakes my fears
While round I read his victim's strain.

Sinking into death

From First Congregational Church, Beckett, MA:

In memory of Heman Childs
who was drowned near Albany
Sept 30, 1826 aged 28 years
No friendly hand, did close his eyes;
He saw no tears, he heard no sighs,
Deep in the stream he lost his breath
And there endur'd a watery death.

On the starry road

From Warwick Cemetery, Warwick, MA:

This stone calls to our remembrance
a truly pious + devout man: Mr. Abram Barnes,
who died 9 July 1816, AE 84
This grave holds fast in icy arms
the body of the virtuous Barnes.
Death hurled his shaft
up through the starry road.
His soul is triumphant,
so Elijah went to God.

Under the elms

From Riverside Cemetery, Sunderland, MA:

She rests under the shade
of Elm trees
And the winter snows
that she loved.

The chilling blast

From St James Churchyard, Arlington, VT:

It was a sweet little flower
Too tender to stay
In this worlds chilling blast
It has wither'd away.

The cheerful toiler

From Cutting Cemetery, Whitingham, VT:

Toiling often into the small hours of the night
she cheerfully gave her whole life's work to
benefit and gladden the hearts of others.
We all dearly loved her.

Sackcloth

From West Cemetery, Pelham, MA:

Weep not for her ye friends so dear
But lay your sackecloth by:
She's left this world so lone and drear,
To dwell with God on high.


[sackcloth: a coarse cloth of goat or camel's hair or of flax, hemp, or cotton; a garment of sackcloth worn as a sign of mourning or penitence] PS: The spelling, 'sackecloth', is as it appears on the stone.

O Death

Eternal solitude

From Phillipston Center Cemetery, Phillipston, MA:

The earth has fallen cold and deep
Upon his narrow bier;
No wintry winds can break his sleep;
No thunders reach his ear;
The mourner's parting steps are gone
And silent in death he sleeps alone.

The end of a personal history

From Leyden Road Cemetery, Leyden, MA:

Matthew Severance
Born in Fort Dummer.
Brattleboro, VT.
June 1735
Died in Leyden.
Mar. 14, 1816
Matthew Strange, whose parents lived in Deerfield,
was the first white child born in VT., served in
French and Indian War. While on a scout near
Lake George, taken captive by the Indians,
to Canada, run the gauntlet, and made his
escape by hiding three nights and two days
in a hollow log. Settled in Greenfield. In
old age came to Leyden to his son's.

["Running the gauntlet is a form of physical punishment wherein a man is compelled to run between two rows —a gauntlet— of soldiers who strike him as he passes." from WikiPedia]

Angels watch the soft repose.

From Sugarloaf Street Cemetery, S. Deerfield, MA:

Mr. Sylvester D. Stebbins
died at Palmer 3 Sept. 1826, AE 35.
His death was caused by
a wound received on his
head Aug. 31 by a piece of
a rock blown 20 rods from
where he was at work.
Nor pain nor grief nor anxious fear
Invade thy bounds, no mortal woes
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here.
While angels watch the soft repose.

[A rod equals 16.5 feet.]

The dark pall of fate

From West Branch Cemetery, Colrain, MA:

From its orbit another
bright planet has fled
And the dark pall of fate
encurtains the dead.
He has passed from this earth
like a beautiful flower
which bloom'd, was exhaled,
and died in an hour.

The rolling waves

From a cemetery in Searsport, ME:

In memory of Capt. John P. Pendleton
who was lost at sea
Probably on Georges Shoales
together with all his crew
Dec. 2, 1817 E. 40 yrs. + 8 mos.
He died upon the rolling wave
Far from his native shore
No friendship's tear bedews his grave
Though friends his loss deplore.

She hears the bells.

From Main Street Cemetery, Keene, NH:

Then as these eyes grow dim,
Chant ye her best loved hymn
While from yon church lower's brim
A soft chime swells
Her freed soul floats in bliss,
To unseen worlds from this
Nor knows in which it is
She hears the bells.

Death's arrow

From the First Congregational Church Cemetery, Beckett, MA:

In memory of Micah Higley
who was shot, + died instantly
Decr. 19th 1788 in the 35th year of his age.
Death's arrows are often
unexpected and unseen.

No warning given

From Shelburne Falls Road Cemetery, Conway, MA:

In memory of Charles Baker Esq.
of Pittsfield Mass.,
Son of Mr. Isaac + Mrs. Louis Baker of Conway
who was killed instantly in this town by lightning
May 20, 1829
in the 31st year of his age.
No warning given
Unceremonious fall:
A sudden rush from
Lifes meridian joys.
When lightnings shine,
And thunders roar,
let earth adore
The hand divine.

Swift the moments

From Meadow Road Cemetery, Bernardston, MA:

The grave is near the cradle seen.
And swift the moments pass between.

His unhappy fate

From the First Congregational Church Cemetery, Beckett, MA:

In memory of Mr. Jonathan Wadsworth
who died August 2d 1798 in the 76th year
of his age.
He was kill'd by a bull. He left to morn his
unhappy Fate, a wife, 8 children, 41 Gr. children,
12 Gr. Gr. children living in Beckett
My children round me seem to weep
Behold I am but fell a sleep.
In the bright morning shall arise
And dwell with God above the skies.

The grindstone

From an unnamed cemetery in Plainfield, MA:

William
Son of William + Charlotte Alcott
Killed in Goshen Mass.
by bursting of a grindstone
Mar. 13, 1884
AE. 22 yrs 1 mo. 15d.
A loving son and brother
a trustful and upright man.

The foe that none can conquer.

From an unnamed cemetery in Plainfield, MA:

The soldier's work was finished
And his feet were homeward turned
But the foe that none can conquer
Stalked in treachery by his side.
And ere he reached the threshold
Of the home for which he yearned
The fatal arrow smote him
And he laid him down and died.

Oh, to be young forever.

From Old Bennington Cemetery, Bennington, VT:

Old age, with all her dismal train,
Invades your golden years
With sighs + groans + raging pain
And Death that never spares.

With silent tread

An epitaph from First Congregational Church Burying-yard, East Machias, ME:

There is no death! An angel form
Walks o'er the earth with silent tread;
He bears our best lov'd things away,
And then we call them dead.

Beneath these little mounds

A sad one from my town, Greenfield, MA:

Beneath these little
mounds, lie three infant
children of Capt. Isaac
Newton;
one, a son died May 1,
1780, aged 5 months.
The other two, each died
on the day of their birth.

The dissolving

From Phillipston, MA:

As you are now, so once was I,
Rejoicing in my bloom;
As I am now, you soon must be
Dissolving in your tomb.

One spring day, while hunting

From Elmwood Cemetery, Great Barrington, MA:

In memory of
Mr. Nathl. Parks,
AET. 19, who on
21st, March 1974
being out on a hunt=
=ing and conceal,d
in a ditch was
casually shot by
Mr. Luther Frink.

[All typos and/or mispellings in this, and any epitaph posted here, are accurately recorded from the gravestone itself.]

Death from above

From West Branch Cemetery, Colrain, MA:

This man arose from bed
In perfect health was he,
At 9AM we saw him dead
Kill'd by a falling tree.

The rising morn does not ensure
That we shall end the day:
For often death stands at the door
To snatch our lives away.

The cheerful scythe-swinger

My very favorite epitaph; from the Old Burying Ground, Shutesbury, MA

Erected by the town of Shutesbury
In memory of Ephriam Pratt
Born in East Sudbury Nov 1, 1686.
Removed to Shutesbury soon after its first settlement
Where he resided until he died May 22, 1804
In his 117 year.
He was remarkably cheerful in his disposition
and temperate in his habits. He swung a
scythe 101 consecutive years and mounted a
horse without assistance at the age of 110.
An hundred years in prospect long may seem
when view'd in retrospect a transient gleam
They live, in life, tho' long or short may be...

[The rest was illegible, being beneath the ground.]

Grim death

Three very dark epitaphs from the First Church Cemetery, Ludlow, MA:

Her infant twain doth still remain
Lodg'd in her mouldering arms
Doth loudly call to one and all
To hear grim death's alarms.

With disentary + with worms
God did death licence give
To take away my precious soul
And say I should not live.

Our life how short a groan a sigh
We live and then begin to die
Death steals upon us while we're green
Behind us digs a grave unseen.

A bitter-sweet epitaph

From Mt. Warner Road Cemetery, Hadley:

O stranger pause nor call this not
A place of fear and gloom.
We love to linger near this spot
It is our loved ones tomb.

The winding sheet

A sad epitaph from Hoe Shop Road Cemetery, West Gill, MA:

How quickly meet
Sweet flower thy blossom
And thy winding sheet.

An old sinner

From Quabbin Park Cemetery, Belchertown:

Ah no! he died and left behind
A fame that none would wish to share.

"Now I am dead..."

From Central Cemetery, in Orange, MA:

Now I am dead, and in my grave.
And my bones, they are all rotten.
When this you see remember me,
That I may not be forgotten.

"Alone"

I found this epitaph in an Athol, MA cemetery along Route 202:

ALONE

Gone is my last friend
Why did it have to end
I listen for the phone
Alas, I am all alone

Through faults of my own
Which no one can condone
I sit all by myself
Alas, I am all alone

I wish I could die
But all I do is cry
Alas, I am all alone
Won't someone tell me why

With no one to share
I pull out my hair
Alas, I am all alone
Because I forgot to care

Death by sand.

From South Cemetery, Belchertown:

In memory of a son... who died as follows...
Being sent after sand killed by the bank caveing in
upon him May 21 1811, aged 8 years

The cut of an ax.

This intriguing epitaph comes from the Old Hadley Burying-ground, in Hadley, MA:

Samuel Phillips Porter
Son of Gen. Samuel + Mrs Lucy Porter,
died 7 Aug. 1809 in the 4 year of his age.
His death was occasioned by the cut of an ax
upon his neck which severed his jugular vein.

Old Montague epitaphs

Very striking epitaphs from Montague, MA:

Cyrus, son of Mr
Joseph + Mrs
Annas Cunn
Perished in the
Woods on the
Night of the first
of Dec. 1809, ag.
3 ys. + 11 mon.

When bending o'er this sculptur'd stone
You weep my fate, or mourn your own;
Spurn not the narrow bounded tomb,
Here's space enough to give you room.

In memory of Mr.
Phineas, son of Dea. Silas +
Mrs Mary Hosmer, who died
July 10, 1832 Aged 19 years + 7 mo.
In attempting to swim across the Connec
ticut, with Mr. Samuel Marsh Jr, his strength
failed + both turned to regain the shore; Marsh
succeeded, + seeing his friend sinking, his generous
heart induced him to return to save him + both
sunk together, not to rise, until their immortal
spirits had ascended to their God, where we trust
he is celebrating the praises of that Redeemer of
which he was a professed follower while with us.
He was amiable in life, may the living imitate
his virtues, + be prepared to meet the King of Terrors.
My fathers house mourn not for me
With Christ I reign: Oh! May you join with me again.

In memory of Mr. Elijah Bardwell
who died Jan'ry 26th 1786 in ye 27th
year of his Age, having but a few days
survived ye fatal night when he was
flung from his horse, + drawn by ye stirrup
26 rods along ye path as appear'd by ye place
where his hat was found + where he had
spent ye whole following severe cold night
treading ye snow in a small circle. The
family he left was an aged father, a wife
and 3 small children.
On this side Death man's dangers never cease
Beyond ye virtuous share eternal peace

How short the race our friend has run,
Cut down in all his bloom!
The course but yesterday begun
Now finished in the tomb!

Come fellow mortals come behold
The grave devours both young + old
Up and prepare for the same fate
Don't loiter till it be too late.