The Grave Monologue from Every Man in His Humour

From Every Man in His Humour by Ben Jonson

any · philosophical · 1:09 min

Why should the grave be terrible? Why should it be a word of fear, Jarring upon the mortal ear? There repose and silence dwell: The living hear the funeral knell, But the dead no funeral knell can hear. Does the gay flower scorn the grave? the dew Forget to kiss its turf? the stream Refuse to bathe it? or the beam Of moonlight shun the narrow bed, Where the tired pilgrim rests his head? No! the moon is there, and smiling too! And the sweetest song of the morning bird Is oft in that ancient yew-tree heard; And there may you see the harebell blue Bending his light form--gently--proudly, And listen to the fresh winds, loudly Playing around yon sod, as gay As if it were a holiday, And children freed from durance they.

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