There are two opposing views about today’s famous funeral in London. I can’t go along totally with either of them, and I don’t intend to get involved in political arguments about them here. So I’ll just quote from some famous epitaphs and leave the choice to you.
This is Requiem, by Robert Louis Stevenson:
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 long’d to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
But here is Hilaire Belloc’s Epitaph on the Politician Himself:
Here richly, with ridiculous display,
The politician’s corpse was laid away.
While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged,
I wept, for I had longed to see him hanged.
Finally, Shakespeare had it right (doesn’t he usually?) with this:
Fear no more the heat o’ the sun;
Nor the furious winter’s rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney sweepers come to dust.