Death poems
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Dead Love
© Siddall Elizabeth
Oh never weep for love that's dead Since love is seldom trueBut changes his fashion from blue to red, From brightest red to blue,And love was born to an early death And is so seldom true.
The Glories of our Blood and State
© James Shirley
The glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things;There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings
Dream Song 39: Goodbye, sir, and fare well. You're in the clear
© John Berryman
Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You're in the clear.
'Nobody' (Mark says you said) 'is ever found out.'
I figure you were right,
having as Henry got away with murder
for long. Some jarred clock tell me it's late,
not for you who went straight
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
© William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,I sigh the lack of many a thing I soughtAnd with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:Then can I drown an eye (un-us'd to flow)For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,And weep afresh love's long-since cancell'd woe,And moan th'expense of many a vanish't sight
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When I have seen by time's fell hand defaced
© William Shakespeare
When I have seen by time's fell hand defacedThe rich proud cost of outworn buried age;When sometime lofty towers I see down razedAnd brass eternal slave to mortal rage;When I have seen the hungry ocean gainAdvantage on the kingdom of the shore,And the firm soil win of the watery main,Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;When I have seen such interchange of state,Or state it self confounded to decay,Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminateThat time will come and take my love away
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Tir'd with all these for restful death I cry
© William Shakespeare
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,As to behold desert a begger born,And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,And purest faith unhappily forsworn,And gilded honour shamefully misplac't,And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,And strength by limping sway disablèd,And art made tongue-tied by authority,And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,And simple-truth miscall'd simplicity,And captive-good attending captain-ill
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Then let not winter's wragged hand deface
© William Shakespeare
Then let not winter's wragged hand defaceIn thee thy summer ere thou be distill'd:Make sweet some vial, treasure thou some place,With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd
Shakespeare's Sonnets: The other two, slight air and purging fire
© William Shakespeare
The other two, slight air and purging fire,Are both with thee, where ever I abide;The first my thought, the other my desire,These present-absent with swift motion slide
Shakespeare's Sonnets: The forward violet thus did I chide
© William Shakespeare
The forward violet thus did I chide,Sweet thief, whence did'st thou steal thy sweet that smellsIf not from my love's breath? The purple prideWhich on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells?In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed,The lily I condemnèd for thy hand,And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair,The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,Our blushing shame, an other white despair:A third nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,And to his robb'ry had annex't thy breath,But for his theft in pride of all his growthA vengeful canker ate him up to death
Shakespeare's Sonnets: That time of year thou may'st in me behold
© William Shakespeare
That time of year thou may'st in me beholdWhen yellow leaves, or none, or few do hangUpon those boughs which shake against the cold,Bare ruin'd quires where late the sweet birds sang
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
© William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer's lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dim'd,And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature's changing course, untrim'd:But thy eternal summer shall not fadeNor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,Nor shall death brag thou wandr'st in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth
© William Shakespeare
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,Defy these rebel pow'rs that thee array
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Or I shall live your epitaph to make
© William Shakespeare
Or I shall live your epitaph to make,Or you survive when I in earth am rotten
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem
© William Shakespeare
Oh how much more doth beauty beaut'ous seem,By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deemFor that sweet odor which doth in it live:The canker blooms have full as deep a dieAs the perfumed tincture of the roses,Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:But for their virtue only is their show,They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade,Die to themselves
Shakespeare's Sonnets: O that you were your self, but love you are
© William Shakespeare
O that you were your self, but love you areNo longer yours than you your self here live;Against this coming end you should prepare,And your sweet semblance to some other give
Shakespeare's Sonnets: O lest the world should task you to recite
© William Shakespeare
O lest the world should task you to reciteWhat merit liv'd in me that you should loveAfter my death (dear love), forget me quite,For you in me can nothing worthy prove
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soul
© William Shakespeare
Not mine own fears nor the prophetic soulOf the wide world, dreaming on things to come,Can yet the lease of my true love control,Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
© William Shakespeare
Not marble, nor the gilded monumentsOf princes shall out-live this pow'rful rhyme,But you shall shine more bright in these contentsThan unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time
Shakespeare's Sonnets: My love is as a fever longing still
© William Shakespeare
My love is as a fever longing stillFor that which longer nurseth the disease,Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please
Shakespeare's Sonnets: My glass shall not persuade me I am old
© William Shakespeare
My glass shall not persuade me I am oldSo long as youth and thou are of one date,But when in thee time's furrows I behold,Then look I death my days should expiate
