Death poems
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Concealment
© Abraham Cowley
No; to what purpose should I speak?
No, wretched heart! swell till you break.
La Belle Dame Sans Merci (Original version )
© John Keats
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
A Ghost At The Dancing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Many here knew and loved thee--I nor loved,
Scarce knew--yet in thy place a shadow glides,
And a face shapes itself from empty air,
Watching the dancers, grave and quiet-eyed--
Eyes that now see the angels evermore,
Amiel, Amiel.
The Brus Book I
© John Barbour
Storys to rede ar delatibill
Suppos that thai be nocht bot fabill,
Than suld storys that suthfast wer
The New Wife and the Old
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dark the halls, and cold the feast,
Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest.
All is over, all is done,
Twain of yesterday are one!
Blooming girl and manhood gray,
Autumn in the arms of May!
The Things That Cause A Quiet Life
© Henry Howard
My friend, the things that do attain
The happy life be these, I find:
The riches left, not got with pain,
The fruitful ground; the quiet mind;
Raschi In Prague
© Emma Lazarus
Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel,
The authoritative Talmudist, returned
Cavalry Charge At Balaclava
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Traveller on foreign ground, whoe'er thou art,
Tell the great tidings! They went down that day
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 04 - Folly Of The Fear Of Death
© Lucretius
Therefore death to us
Is nothing, nor concerns us in the least,
My Heart
© George MacDonald
Night, with her power to silence day,
Filled up my lonely room,
Quenching all sounds but one that lay
Beyond her passing doom,
Where in his shed a workman gay
Went on despite the gloom.
Alfred. Book VI.
© Henry James Pye
But when he views, along the tented field,
With trailing banner, and inverted shield,
Young Donald, borne by Scotia's weeping bands,
In deeper woe the generous hero stands.
Days And Days
© Madison Julius Cawein
The days that clothed white limbs with heat,
And rocked the red rose on their breast,
Have passed with amber-sandaled feet
Into the ruby-gated west.
The First Hymn Of Callimachus. To Jupiter
© Matthew Prior
While we to Jove select the holy victim
Whom apter shall we sing than Jove himself,
Absence And Love
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WE need the clasp of hand in hand,
The light flashed warm from neighboring eyes:
Or else as weary seasons pass--
Alas! alas!
Our tenderest love grows wan and dies.
The Frog
© James Whitcomb Riley
Who am I but the Frog--the Frog!
My realm is the dark bayou,
And my throne is the muddy and moss-grown log
That the poison-vine clings to--
And the blacksnakes slide in the slimy tide
Where the ghost of the moon looks blue.
Holy Sonnet XVI: Father
© John Donne
Father, part of his double interest
Unto thy kingdom, thy Son gives to me,
