Death poems
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The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, pitiful awaking! What was Adrian's pleasure,
That it had earned for him such bitterness?
What his soul's pride that its new tender measure
Should find its echo in a dirge like this?
Sin
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is a legend of an old Hartz tower
That tells of one, a noble, who had sold
Cain And Abel
© John Newton
When Adam fell he quickly lost
God's image, which he once possessed:
See All our nature since could boast
In Cain, his first-born Son, expressed!
A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet XXII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Unblest discovery of an age too real!
They needed not the beauty of the Earth,
Who held Heaven's hope for their supreme ideal,
And found in worlds unseen a better birth.
The Old Flute
© Henry Van Dyke
The time will come when I no more can play
This polished flute: the stops will not obey
The Princes Quest - Part the Sixth
© William Watson
Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out
The green heart of the waters round about,
Consolation of Early Death
© Beaumont and Fletcher
Sweet prince, the name of Death was never terrible
To him that knew to live; nor the loud torrent
At Rheims 24
© Robert Laurence Binyon
But sudden in the hush between
Death and the doomed, there stands
Learn
© Ada Cambridge
Learn, learn, learn,-
Our beautiful world is not a field for sheep;
Not just a place wherein to laugh and weep,
To eat and drink, to dance and sigh and sleep.
And then to moulder into senseless dust.
A Torchbearer
© Edith Wharton
Great cities rise and have their fall; the brass
That held their glories moulders in its turn.
Elegy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
"DARK gathering clouds involve the threatening skies,
The sea heaves conscious of the impending gloom,
Deep, hollow murmurs from the cliffs arise;
They come--the Spirits of the Tempest come!
An Epistle to a Lady
© Mary Leapor
In vain, dear Madam, yes in vain you strive;
Alas! to make your luckless Mira thrive,
For Tycho and Copernicus agree,
No golden Planet bent its Rays on me.
Death In Life
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
My head is heavy, my limbs are weary,
And it is not life that makes me move.
Yorktown Centennial Lyric
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HARK, hark! down the century's long reaching slope
To those transports of triumph, those raptures of hope,
The voices of main and of mountain combined
In glad resonance borne on the wings of the wind,
On The Death Of Thomas Bailey Aldrich
© William Stanley Braithwaite
There is a pause in meeting before speech
Between men who have fed their souls with song;
The strangeness of an echo beyond reach
Cleaves silence deep for speech to pass along.
There are no words to tell the loss, but each
Of our hearts feels the sorrow deep and strong.
The Cry Of Earth
© Madison Julius Cawein
THE Season speaks this year of life
Confusing words of strife,
Suggesting weeds instead of fruits and flowers
In all Earth's bowers.
The House Of Dust: {Complete}
© Conrad Aiken
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
