William Cullen Bryant, Kendall.

When I was 5 my father died. Three years later, my maternal grandpa. Four years later, my maternal grandma. Seven years, my Uncle Jack. Six year, and my paternal grandpa. Then my friend Tom, of an overdose. My surviving Grandmother only a month before I married. Another Uncle. Then my mother. My oldest friend, Bob. My friend Steve, younger than I am.

Heck, I used to play in a cemetery, I had a job setting gravestones, and my brother used to dig graves! Even in the Army, at the end of my hitch I had a Graves Registration unit attached to my platoon.

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.