Death poems
/ page 191 of 560 /
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Fourth
© William Lisle Bowles
O'er my poor ANNA'S lowly grave
No dirge shall sound, no knell shall ring;
But angels, as the high pines wave,
Their half-heard "Miserere" sing.
The Headless Trooper.
© James Brunton Stephens
NO; not another step, for all
The troopers out of hell!
Pippa Passes: Part IV: Night
© Robert Browning
Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you. Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?Benedicto benedicatur . . . ugh, ugh! Where was I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is mild, very unlike winter-weather: but I am a Sicilian, you know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when 't was full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the Intendant]
Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.
When The Wind Storms By With A Shout
© William Ernest Henley
When the wind storms by with a shout, and the stern sea-caves
Rejoice in the tramp and the roar of onsetting waves,
Then, then, it comes home to the heart that the top of life
Is the passion that burns the blood in the act of strife -
Till you pity the dead down there in their quiet graves.
The Rock Of Cader Idris
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
I LAY on that rock where the storms have their dwelling,
The birthplace of phantoms, the home of the cloud;
Hymn XVII. Rise royal Sion! rise and sing
© John Austin
Rise royal Sion! rise and sing
Thy souls kind Shepherd, thy harts King:
Forsaken. (From The German)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Something the heart must have to cherish,
Must love and joy and sorrow learn,
Something with passion clasp, or perish,
And in itself to ashes burn.
The Destruction Of Sennacherib
© George Gordon Byron
I.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
Domestic Peace
© Anne Brontë
Why should such gloomy silence reign,
And why is all the house so drear,
When neither danger, sickness, pain,
Nor death, nor want, have entered here?
The Moor
© Ralph Hodgson
The world's gone forward to its latest fair
And dropt an old man done with by the way,
Battle Of Charleston Harbor, April 7, 1863
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
TWO hours, or more, beyond the prime of a blithe April day,
The Northmen's mailed "Invincibles" steamed up fair Charleston Bay;
They came in sullen file, and slow, low-breasted on the wave,
Black as a midnight front of storm, and silent as the grave.
An Essay On The Different Stiles Of Poetry
© Thomas Parnell
I hate the Vulgar with untuneful Mind,
Hearts uninspir'd, and Senses unrefin'd.
Hence ye Prophane, I raise the sounding String,
And Bolingbroke descends to hear me sing.
Hush'd Be the Camps Today
© Walt Whitman
Hush'd be the camps today,
And soldiers let us drape our war-worn weapons,
And each with musing soul retire to celebrate,
Our dear commander's death.
The Cathedral Of Rheims
© Emile Verhaeren
He who walks through the meadows of Champagne
At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear,
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 95
© Alfred Tennyson
While now we sang old songs that peal'd
From knoll to knoll, where, couch'd at ease,
The white kine glimmer'd, and the trees
Laid their dark arms about the field.
Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The 50th Anniversary Of The Class Of 1825 In Bowdoin College
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
~OVID, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
