Death poems
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One Woman's Memory
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Here is a lock of his soft, dark hair,
And here are the letters he wrote to me.
Mesalliance
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I am troubled to-night with a curious pain;
It is not of the flesh, it is not of the brain,
Nor yet of a heart that is breaking:
But down still deeper, and out of sight
To J. D. H.
© Sidney Lanier
Dear friend, forgive a wild lament
Insanely following thy flight
I would not cumber thine ascent
Nor drag thee back into the night;
Don Juan: Canto The Eighth
© George Gordon Byron
Oh blood and thunder! and oh blood and wounds!
These are but vulgar oaths, as you may deem,
The Dead Church
© Charles Kingsley
Wild wild wind, wilt thou never cease thy sighing?
Dark dark night, wilt thou never wear away?
Cold cold church, in thy death sleep lying,
The Lent is past, thy Passion here, but not thine Easter-day.
The Girl Martyr
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Upon his sculptured judgment throne the Roman Ruler sate;
His glittering minions stood around in all their gorgeous state;
But proud as were the noble names that flashed upon each shield
Names known in lofty council halls as well as tented field
None dared approach to break the spell of deep and silent gloom
That hoverd oer his haughty brow, like shadow of the tomb.
Parable Of The Madman
© Friedrich Nietzsche
Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning
hours,
At The Seaside
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O SOLITARY shining sea
That ripples in the sun,
O gray and melancholy sea,
O'er which the shadows run;
Crazed
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'The Spring again hath started on the course
Wherein she seeketh Summer thro' the Earth.
I will arise and go upon my way.
It may be that the leaves of Autumn hid
His footsteps from me; it may be the snows.
The Queen Of Prussia's Tomb
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
In sweet pride upon that insult keen
She smiled; then drooping mute and broken-hearted,
To the cold comfort of the grave departed. ~ Milman.
Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part II.
© Henry James Pye
Yet midst the scene of dread, when certain fate
Rides on the tempest in terrific state,
Bold in the face of death the naval train
Exert their force, and brave the insulting main;
Though rising horrors on their efforts lower,
And the deaf whirlwind mock their useless power.
The Death Of Love
© Madison Julius Cawein
So Love is dead, the Love we knew of old!
And in the sorrow of our hearts' hushed halls
The Monk's Walk
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
In this sombre garden close
What has come and passed, who knows?
What red passion, what white pain
Haunted this dim walk in vain?
Immorality
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
Have you heard, my friend, the slander that the Negro has to face?
Immorality, the grossest, has been charged up to his race.
Listen, listen to my story, as I now proceed to tell
Of conditions in the Southland, where the mass of Negroes dwell.
A Triumph Of Order
© John Hay
A Squad of regular infantry
In the Commune's closing days,
Had captured a crowd of rebels
By the wall of Pere-la-Chaise.
In The Forest
© Charles Sangster
There is no sadness here. Oh, that my heart
Were calm and peaceful as these dreamy groves!
Death Of Little Boys
© Allen Tate
When little boys grown patient at last, weary,
Surrender their eyes immeasurably to the night,
The event will rage terrific as the sea;
Their bodies fill a crumbling room with light.
Italian Scenery
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Night rests in beauty on Mont Alto.
Beneath its shade the beauteous Arno sleeps
In vallombrosa's bosom, and dark trees
Bend with a calm and quiet shadow down
Upon the beauty of that silent river.
