Pop open a cold one and read a Roman tombstone with me.
An astounding ‘project’ commemoration for Theodore Steffen in Cave Hill Cemetery.
A Louisville mayor celebrated by a Zolnay bust and some Byronic verse.
Grim nineteenth-century demographics mourned with grim saccharine verses.
A patent medicine king with, shall we say, an interesting history, buried in West Laurel Hill.
A heartfelt but dicey poem marks the grave of Susanna Stone, dead in 1807.
Some extry bold versificatin’ on the LaBarr monument.
A poem from William Leggett, the editor and abolitionist, provides verses for the Shivers monument.
In which the author grumpily discourses on how Chaucer ain’t Chaucer anymore.
So often willows appear on worn old marble stones that it is a shock to find a crisp, beautiful one.
You have to buy the bottle before you can drink the beer!
Like Ocracoke, Nags Head also has some tiny family cemeteries out of the way on back roads.
The monument of George Jago compels interest for its use of a popular song and its odd iconography.
A handsome monument betrayed by dicey versification and bad typesetting.
Moved by the incredibly sad story of the American chestnut, I sought out and adopted a relic of one of those noble, dead, giants.
Who writes out ‘hundred’ in the number 1790? The Ebenezer Marcy stonecutter, that’s who!
Elegant script in an out-of-the-way Pennsylvania cemetery.
A stone one notch above vernacular slices and dices a hymn to make a quick point.
Once again, breathtaking beauty is where you find it.
One of my favorite poems, with a photo from Kensington Gardens.