Browne, Clovis Mondica

Browne, Clovis Mondica
27 Feb
2017

Clovis Mondica Browne, age 85, of Upper Baker’s Tenantry, St Peter, Father of Moreen Davis of College Savannah, St John, Alfred Clarke, Albert Griffith and Cheryl Clarke-Hurdle - all three of the U.S.A., Randolph Hinkson, Hal and David Turney, Father-in-law of Noel Davis - Lay Minister of St. Mark’s Anglican and Alethea Miller Griffith of the U.S.A., Grandfather of Evan Davis - Supervisor of Hannays Plantation, Simone Griffith, Sayeeda Robinson and Danté Hurdle of the U.S.A., Lee Anderson, Cassey and many others, Great-grandfather of Tori Davis - Pupil of Harrison College and many others, Brother of Richard Worrell and many others and the late Vera Thornhill, Friend of Ryan Norris - Supervisor of Groves Plantation, Hal Phillips, Ester Toppin, Arthur Skeete and many others


The funeral of Clovis Mondica Browne leaves Belmont Funeral Home, Belmont Road, St. Michael on Friday, March 3rd, 2017 at 1:45 p.m. for St. Mark’s Anglican Church, where relatives and friends are asked to meet at 3:30 p.m. for the service, followed by the interment.


The Organist and members of the choir are asked to attend.


Floral arrangement may be sent to Belmont Funeral Home no later than 1:15 p.m. on Friday.


Viewing of the body will take place at Belmont Funeral Home from 3:30 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. on Thursday.

  • Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
    Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightening they Do not go gentle into that good night.   Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.   Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.   And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.