Death poems
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Sonnet Of Motherhood XXXI
© Zora Bernice May Cross
You are your mother, Dear, as I am mine.
And, as we slumber to our souls caress,
Those two who panged for us and weeping smiled,
Draw near and bind us in a peace divine.
O mother me; all else is comfortless
As painted lips above a dying child.
The Hamadryad.
© Robert Crawford
Last night I was like one who prayed
Beneath a mystic tree
Whose windless leaves a murmur made,
As if it there might be
The Three Kings
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN the star in the East was lit to shine
The three kings journeyed to Palestine;
The Crown Of Love
© George Meredith
O might I load my arms with thee,
Like that young lover of Romance
Who loved and gained so gloriously
The fair Princess of France!
The Voyage of Telegonus
© Henry Kendall
Ill fares it with the man whose lips are set
To bitter themes and words that spite the gods;
Dead
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
A KNOCK is at her door, but she is weak;
Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek;
On the Death of the Right Hounourable ---
© Oliver Goldsmith
YE Muses, pour the pitying tear
For Pollio snatch'd away;
O! had he liv'd another year!-
'He had not died to-day'.
The Wanderer Looking Into Other Homes
© Caroline Norton
A LONE, wayfaring wretch I saw, who stood
Wearily pausing by the wicket gate;
And from his eyes there streamed a bitter flood,
Contrasting his with many a happier fate.
My Nora
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Beneath the gold acacia buds
My gentle Nora sits and broods,
Far, far away in Boston woods
My gentle Nora!
A Sicilian Idyll
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Cydilla
Thanks, Damon; now, by Zeus, thou art so brisk,
It shames me that to stoop should try my bones.
Dead Friend Of My Youth
© Franz Werfel
Now when you come all that way to meet me
From the country house of your death,
I know that you would remove your hat
To greet someone already old to you.
The Clouds That Promise A Glorious Morrow
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The clouds that promise a glorious morrow
Are fading slowly, one by one;
John Pegram
© William Gordon McCabe
What shall we say now of our knight,
Or how express the measure of our woe
For him who rode the foremost in the fight,
Whose good blade flashed so far amid the foe?
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Third
© William Lisle Bowles
My heart has sighed in secret, when I thought
That the dark tide of time might one day close,
Those Born In Obscure Times
© Alexander Blok
Those born in obscure times
Do not remember their way.
We, children of Russia's frightful years
Cannot forget a thing.
Smyrna
© John Newton
The message first to Smyrna sent,
A message full of grace;
To all the Saviour's flock is meant,
In every age and place.
Yew-Trees
© William Wordsworth
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale,
Which to this day stands single, in the midst
Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore:
The Two Malefactors
© John Newton
Sovereign grace has pow'r alone
To subdue a heart of stone;
And the moment grace is felt,
Then the hardest heart will melt.
Douro
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The dripping of the boughs in silence heard
Softly; the low note of some lingering bird
Amid the weeping vapour; the chill fall
Of solitary evening upon all
