Death poems
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My Dream
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In my dream, methought I trod,
Yesternight, a mountain road;
Narrow as Al Sirat's span,
High as eagle's flight, it ran.
City Contrasts
© Anonymous
A barefooted child on the crossing,
Sweeping the mud away,
A lady in silks and diamonds,
Proud of the vain display;
The Death And Burial Of McDonald Clarke: A Parody
© Walt Whitman
Not a sigh was heard, not a tear was shed,
As a way to the 'tombs' he was hurried,
No mother or friend held his dying head,
Or wept when the poet was buried.
Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Then burned their souls
At these his words, indignant at the thought,
And Rome rose up within them, and to die
Was welcome.
Farewell To Brother Jonathan
© Anonymous
Farewell! we must part; we have turned from the land
Of our cold-hearted brother, with tyrannous hand,
Who assumed all our rights as a favor to grant,
And whose smile ever covered the sting of a taunt;
Scholar And The Carpenter
© Jean Ingelow
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
Marriage Morn.
© Robert Crawford
Fades the moonlight on the sea,
And the dawn is coming in
What will this day bring for me,
This of all days, Evelyn?
The Dream Of Pio Nono
© John Greenleaf Whittier
IT chanced that while the pious troops of France
Fought in the crusade Pio Nono preached,
What time the holy Bourbons stayed his hands
(The Hur and Aaron meet for such a Moses),
Shooting
© Henry James Pye
The Monarch hears, and with reluctant eyes
Gives the consent his boding heart denies;
His brow a placid guise dissembling wears,
While Reason vainly combats stronger fears.
Deliverance Through Art
© Lesbia Harford
When I am making poetry I'm good
And happy then.
I live in a deep world of angelhood
Afar from men.
Arnold Rode Behind
© Roderic Quinn
WE galloped down the sodden track
Close buttoned 'gainst the wind;
I took the lead with whip and spur,
And Arnold rode behind.
Soul
© Boris Pasternak
My mournful soul, you, sorrowing
For all my friends around,
You have become the burial vault
Of all those hounded down.
At A Dinner To General Grant
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
JULY 31, 1865
WHEN treason first began the strife
The Wide Ocean
© Pablo Neruda
Only a salt kiss remains of the drowned arm,
that lifts a spray: a humid scent,
of the damp flower, is left,
from the bodies of men. Your energies
form, in a trickle that is not spent,
form, in retreat into silence.
Italy : 31. A Funeral
© Samuel Rogers
'Whence this delay?' "Along the crowded street
A Funeral comes, and with unusual pomp."
So I withdrew a little, and stood still,
While it went by. 'She died as she deserved,'
The Voice of the Swamp Oak
© Charles Harpur
Even when the waveless air
May only stir the lightest leaf,
A lowly voice keeps moaning there
Wordless oracles of grief.
On Mr. Howard's Account Of Lazarettos
© William Lisle Bowles
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude,
The path of good right onward hast pursued;
A salutation of his Majesties Ship the Soveraign
© Henry King
Move on thou floating Trophee built to fame!
And bid her trump spread thy Majestick name;
That the blew Tritons, and those petty Gods
Which sport themselves upon the dancing floods,
Fand, A Feerie Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
In the land of the living are kingdoms twain,
Kingdoms twain,--nay, kingdoms three;
One is of sunshine and one of rain,
And one of the moonlight without a stain.
The moonlight people, of these are we,
The ever--happy, the Sidhe, the Sidhe.
