Death poems
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Southampton Castle
© William Lisle Bowles
INSCRIBED TO THE MARQUIS OF LANSDOWNE.
The moonlight is without; and I could lose
The Little Left Hand - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Interior of a Church--Davis, Bradshaw, and others.
Davis. The sword of the Lord and the sword of Gideon!
It was good To see the red--coats run before our multitude.
We broke them by sheer numbers--
The Grave. From The Anglo-Saxon
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For thee was a house built
Ere thou wast born,
Footfalls
© Henry Kendall
The embers were blinking and clinking away,
The casement half open was thrown;
There was nothing but cloud on the skirts of the Day,
And I sat on the threshold alone!
To A Lady, With Falconer's 'Shipwreck'
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Oh! not by Cam or Isis, famous streams
In arched groves, the youthful poet's choice;
Nor while half-listening, mid delicious dreams,
To harp and song from lady's hand and voice;
The Meaning Of Death
© Allen Tate
Time, fall no more.
Let that be life time falls no more. The threat
Of time we in our own courage have forsworn.
Let light fall, there shall be eternal light
And all the light shall on our heads be worn
Impromtu
© John Gould Fletcher
My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius;
In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their branches like
On The Death Of Mr. Fox
© George Gordon Byron
THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN A MORNING PAPER:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
David
© John Le Gay Brereton
Eternal cold of silence, where each sound
Dies in its birth, and Deaths pale henchmen meet
The Wanderer
© Madison Julius Cawein
Between the death of day and birth of night,
By War's red light,
In A Spring Garden
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHEN Heaven was stormy, Earth was cold,
And sunlight shunned the wold and wave,--
Thought burrowed in the churchyard mould,
And fed on dreams that haunt the grave:--
The Arctic Visitation
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SOME air-born genius, with malignant mouth,
Breathed on the cold clouds of an Arctic zone--
Which o'er long wastes of shore and ocean blown
Swept threatening, vast, toward the amazèd South:
Death's Final Conquest
© James Shirley
The glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
Merlin And Vivien
© Alfred Tennyson
A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Broceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.
The School-Boy
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
So ran my lines, as pen and paper met,
The truant goose-quill travelling like Planchette;
Too ready servant, whose deceitful ways
Full many a slipshod line, alas! betrays;
Hence of the rhyming thousand not a few
Have builded worse--a great deal--than they knew.
The Rune-Master
© Padraic Colum
On an old thorn-tree
By an ancient rath
You heard him sing,
And with runes you charmed him
Till he stayed with you,
Giving clear song.
The Doctor Asked Her What She Wanted Done
© Edna St. Vincent Millay
And questioning her, she'd never seen before,
But only watching by his bed once more
And sitting silent if a knocking came…
She said at length, feeling the doctor's eyes,
"I don't know what you do exactly when a person dies."
The Wind And The Sea
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I STOOD by the shore at the death of day,
As the sun sank flaming red;
Speak
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Speak, your lips are free.
Speak, it is your own tongue.
Speak, it is your own body.
Speak, your life is still yours.
