Death poems
/ page 198 of 560 /
Poems For Piraye (9 To 10 OClock Poems)
© Nazim Hikmet
Remembering you is good
in prison
amid the news
of victory and death
as my fortieth year passes...
The Victory
© Robert Southey
Hark--how the church-bells thundering harmony
Stuns the glad ear! tidings of joy have come,
The Bards, To The Soldiers Of Caractacus
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Spark of freedom, blaze on high!
Wilt thou quiver? shalt thou die?
Never, never! holy fire!
Mount, irradiate! beam, aspire!
The Golden Corpse
© Stephen Vincent Benet
Stripped country, shrunken as a beggar's heart,
Inviolate landscape, hardened into steel,
Where the cold soil shatters under heel
Day after day like armor cracked apart.
Melancholy
© Paul Verlaine
I am the Empire in the last of its decline,
That sees the tall, fair-haired Barbarians pass,-the while
Composing indolent acrostics, in a style
Of gold, with languid sunshine dancing in each line.
"The Undying One" - Canto IV
© Caroline Norton
On she goes, and the waves are dashing
Under her stern, and under her prow;
Oh! pleasant the sound of the waters splashing
To those who the heat of the desert know.
O'Connell
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
So let the verse in echoing accents ring,
So proudly sing,
With intermittent wail,
The nation's dead, but sceptred King,
The glory of the Gael.
The Hired Man And Floretty
© James Whitcomb Riley
The Hired Man's supper, which he sat before,
In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door
And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was
Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause
His dextrous knife was balancing a bit
Of fried mush near the port awaiting it.
The Atlas
© Kenneth Slessor
I. The King of Cuckooz
THE King of Cuckooz Contrey
Hangs peaked above Argier
With Janzaries and Marabutts
The Invitation
© Robert Bloomfield
O for the strength to paint my joy once more!
That joy I feel when Winter's reign is o'er;
A Dead Year
© Jean Ingelow
I took a year out of my life and story--
A dead year, and said, "I will hew thee a tomb!
'All the kings of the nations lie in glory;'
Cased in cedar, and shut in a sacred gloom;
Swathed in linen, and precious unguents old;
Painted with cinnabar, and rich with gold.
Idiot
© Allen Tate
The idiot greens the meadow with his eyes,
The meadow creeps implacable and still;
A dog barks, the hammock swings, he lies.
One two three the cows bulge on the hill.
Elegy XX (Alternate) Love's War
© John Donne
Till I have peace with thee, warr other Men,
And when I have peace, can I leave thee then?
The Quaker Widow
© James Bayard Taylor
THEE finds me in the garden, Hannah,come in! T is kind of thee
To wait until the Friends were gone, who came to comfort me.
The still and quiet company a peace may give, indeed,
But blessed is the single heart that comes to us at need.
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The First
© William Lisle Bowles
Awake a louder and a loftier strain!
Beloved harp, whose tones have oft beguiled
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Poet's Tale; The Birds of Killingworth
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was the season, when through all the land
The merle and mavis build, and building sing
