Mark Twain,
Post-mortem Poetry
“ And with the same strict adhesion to truth it can be said that the man would be a fool who tried to add anything to the following transcendent obituary poem. There is something so innocent, so guileless, so complacent, so unearthly serene and self-satisfied about this peerless "hog-wash," that the man must be made of stone who can read it without a dulcet ecstasy creeping along his backbone and quivering in his marrow. ”
Mark Twain,
Post-mortem Poetry
“ Doble.--On the 4th inst., Samuel Pervil Worthington Doble, aged 4 days. Our little Sammy's gone, His tiny spirit's fled; Our little boy we loved so dear Lies sleeping with the dead. A tear within a father's eye, A mother's aching heart, Can only tell the agony How hard it is to part. Could anything be more plaintive than that, without requiring further concessions of grammar? Could anything be likely to do more toward reconciling deceased to circumstances, and making him willing to go? Perhaps not. ”
Mark Twain,
Post-mortem Poetry
“ In Philadelphia, the departure of a child is a circumstance which is not more surely followed by a burial than by the accustomed solacing poesy in the PUBLIC LEDGER. In that city death loses half its terror because the knowledge of its presence comes thus disguised in the sweet drapery of verse. For instance, in a late LEDGER I find the following (I change the surname) : DIED Hawks.--On the 17th inst., Clara, the daughter of Ephraim and Laura Hawks, aged 21 months and 2 days. ”
