Death poems
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Xantippe(A Fragment)
© Amy Levy
What, have I waked again? I never thought
To see the rosy dawn, or ev'n this grey,
Of The Love Of Christ
© John Bunyan
The love of Christ, poor I! may touch upon;
But 'tis unsearchable. O! there is none
Anywhere Out of the World
© Charles Baudelaire
Life is a hospital where every patient is obsessed by the desire of changing beds. One would like to suffer opposite the stove, another is sure he would get well beside the window.
It always seems to me that I should be happy anywhere but where I am, and this question of moving is one that I am eternally discussing with my soul.
On The Death of The Rev'd Dr. Sewall
© Phillis Wheatley
Now this faint Semblance of his life complete
He is, thro' Jesus, made divinely great
And left a glorious pattern to repeat
Shakuntala Act II
© Kalidasa
ACT II
SCENE A PLAIN, with royal pavilions on the skirt of the forest.
Monody On The Death Of Wendell Phillips
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Ever he faced the storm!
No weaver of rare romance,
No patient framer of laws,
No maker of wondrous rhyme,
No bookman wrapt in his dream.
At The Grave Of Keats
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
To G. W. C.
LONG, long ago, in the sweet Roman spring
Through the bright morning air we slowly strolled,
And in the blue heaven heard the skylarks sing
Marriage Chapter III
© Khalil Gibran
Then Almitra spoke again and said, "And what of Marriage, master?"
And he answered saying:
You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.
Sleep
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lull me to sleep, ye winds, whose fitful sound
Seems from some faint Aeolian harp-string caught;
A Lost Flower
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Droop all the flowers in my garden,
All their fair heads hang low;
Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
'Choose Reform or Civil War,
When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort-Queen shall hunt a King with hogs,
Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
The Reprisall
© George Herbert
I have consider'd it, and finde
There is no dealing with Thy mighty passion:
For though I die for thee, I am behinde;
My sinnes deserve the condemnation.
An Old Proverb
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
What is the value then
To all those sleeping men?
It will be all the same,
Passion and grief and blame.
This in the years to be,
My God, the tragedy!
Sleep
© Arthur Symons
What is good for fever, except sleep?
What is good for love, but to forget?
Bury love deep,
Deeper than sound sleep,
And let
Fever drowse a little, and the heart forget.
The Fireside
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
I have tasted all life's pleasures, I have snatched at all its joys,
The dance's merry measures and the revel's festive noise;
Though wit flashed bright the live-long night, and flowed the ruby tide,
I sighed for thee, I sighed for thee, my own fireside!
