Death poems
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Sonnet V. To The South Downs
© Charlotte Turner Smith
AH! hills beloved!--where once, a happy child,
Your beechen shades, 'your turf, your flowers among,'
I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild,
And woke your echoes with my artless song.
Brightens Sister-In-Law [or The Carrier's Story]
© Henry Lawson
AT A POINT where the old road crosses
The river, and turns to the right,
I Do But Ask That You Be Always Fair
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
I do but ask that you be always fair
That I forever may continue kind;
A Story of the Sea-Shore
© George MacDonald
It was a simple tale, a monotone:
She climbed one sunny hill, gazed once abroad,
Then wandered down, to pace a dreary plain;
Alas! how many such are told by night,
In fisher-cottages along the shore!
Alec Yeaton's Son
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
The wind it wailed, the wind it moaned,
And the white caps flecked the sea;
"An' I would to God," the skipper groaned,
"I had not my boy with me!
The Wanderer: A Vision: Canto V
© Richard Savage
My hermit thus. She beckons us away:
Oh, let us swift the high behest obey!
In The "Old South"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
She came and stood in the Old South Church,
A wonder and a sign,
With a look the old-time sibyls wore,
Half-crazed and half-divine.
Cry Of The Children
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers,
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
Thomas the Rhymer
© Sir Walter Scott
Ancient
True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee;
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto II.
© George Gordon Byron
1
Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar
Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war:
All the sons of the mountains arise at the note,
Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!
The Princes' Quest - Part the Fifth
© William Watson
So, being risen, the Prince in brief while went
Forth to the market-place, where babblement
The Lament For Shuil Donalds Daughter
© Caroline Norton
I.
IN old Shuil Donald's cottage there are many voices weeping,
And stifled sobs, and murmurings of sorrow wild and vain,
For the old man's cherish'd blessing on her bed of death lies sleeping,--
I Am With Terrorism
© Nizar Qabbani
We are accused of terrorism:
if we wrote about the ruins of a homeland
torn, weak...
a homeland with no address
and an nation with no names
Ghost Of The Beautiful Past
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Ghost of the beautiful past, of the days long gone, of a queen, of a fair sweet woman.
Ghost with the passionate eyes, how proud, yet not too proud to have wept, to have loved, since to love is human.
Angel in fair white garments, with skirts of lawn, by the autumn wind on the pathway fluttered,
Always close by the castle wall and about to speak. But the whisper dies on her lips unuttered.
The four Monarchyes, the Assyrian being the first, beginning under Nimrod, 131. Years after the Floo
© Anne Bradstreet
When time was young, & World in Infancy,
Man did not proudly strive for Soveraignty:
