Death poems
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To The Queen Of England
© Edith Nesbit
COME forth! the world's aflame with flags and flowers,
The shout of bells fills full the shattered air,
The Fen-Fire
© Madison Julius Cawein
The misty rain makes dim my face,
The night's black cloak is o'er me;
I tread the dripping cypress-place,
A flickering light before me.
Written In A Diary
© Frances Anne Kemble
They who go down to the relentless deep,
After long horrible death of cold and drought
Henry The Hermit
© Robert Southey
It was a little island where he dwelt,
Or rather a lone rock, barren and bleak,
The Bakchesarian Fountain
© Alexander Pushkin
Has treason scaled the harem's wall,
Whose height might treason's self appal,
And slavery's daughter fled his power,
To yield her to the daring Giaour?
A Song For Christmas
© George MacDonald
Hark, in the steeple the dull bell swinging
Over the furrows ill ploughed by Death!
Hark the bird-babble, the loud lark singing!
Hark, from the sky, what the prophet saith!
Poem For The Two Hundred And Fiftieth Anniversary Of The Founding Of Harvard College
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Thou whose bold flight would leave earth's vulgar crowds,
And like the eagle soar above the clouds,
Must feel the pang that fallen angels know
When the red lightning strikes thee from below!
The Greater Cats
© Victoria Mary Sackville-West
The greater cats with golden eyes
Stare out between the bars.
Extreme Unction
© James Russell Lowell
Go! leave me, Priest; my soul would be
Alone with the consoler, Death;
The Bestiary: or Orpheuss Procession
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Admire the vital power
And nobility of line:
Its the voice that the light made us understand here
That Hermes Trismegistus writes of in Pimander.
Deborah
© Thomas Parnell
O King subdu'd! O Woman born to fame!
O Wake my fancy for the glorious theme,
O wake my fancy with the sense of praise,
O wake with warblings of triumphant lays.
The Land you rise in sultry suns invade,
But where you rise to sing you'le find a shade.
A.d. 19 ?
© Arthur Henry Adams
AS in some quiet city bathed in sleep,
Where like a kiss the twilight lingereth,
When suddenly the earth stirs far beneath
Just moves, then pauses and a silence deep
A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - November
© George MacDonald
1.
THOU art of this world, Christ. Thou know'st it all;
The Death Of Myth-Making
© Sylvia Plath
Two virtues ride, by stallion, by nag,
To grind our knives and scissors:
Lantern-jawed Reason, squat Common Sense,
One courting doctors of all sorts,
One, housewives and shopkeepers.
On Two Sisters Whose Deaths Were Together
© Padraic Colum
IN woods remote, hid in the mountain hollows,
Doves there are that have a gentler beauty,
Doves that are marked as by a poet's image,
And hence are called Doves of the Wounded Heart.
The Hours Of Illness
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
How slow creeps time! I hear the midnight chime,
And now late revellers prepare for sleep;
SONNET. VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire
© Henry King
VVere thy heart soft as thou art faire,
Thou wer't a wonder past compare:
But frozen Love and fierce disdain
By their extremes thy graces stain.
To An Amiable Friend Mourning The Death Of An Excellent Father
© Mercy Otis Warren
LET deep dejection hide her pallid face,
And from thy breast each painful image rase;
Forbid thy lip to utter one complaint,
But view the glories of the rising saint,
Ripe for a crown, and waiting the reward
Of watching long the vineyard of the Lord.
Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Decent Into Hell
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A mighty army marches on
By thousand millions follow'd, lo,
To yon dark place makes haste to go
