Death poems
/ page 199 of 560 /
The Feud
© Frederick George Scott
I hear a cry from the Sansard cave,
O mother, will no one hearken?
A cry of the lost, will no one save?
A cry of the dead, though the oceans rave,
And the scream of a gull as he wheels o'er a grave,
While the shadows darken and darken.'
St. Michael's Mount
© William Lisle Bowles
INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD SOMERS.
While summer airs scarce breathe along the tide,
At Eleusis
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
MEN of Eleusis, ye that with long staves
Sit in the market-houses, and speak words
Living Monuments
© Edgar Albert Guest
OUR children are our monuments,
The little ones we leave behind,
If they are good and brave and kind,
And labor here with true intents,
Our lives and work perpetuate
Far more than marble tablets great.
Marianna Alcoforando
© Sara Teasdale
But I have seen my day grow calm again.
The sun sets slowly on a peaceful world,
And sheds a quiet light across the fields.
The Last Bullet
© John Farrell
for revenge upon those who were strong
Cattle speared at the first, blacks shot down,
and the blood of their babes, even, shed;
Blood that stains the same hue as our own.
It is written, red blood will have red !
Reflections Suggested By Winter
© James Thomson
'Tis done! dread winter spreads its latest glooms,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
The Task: Book I. -- The Sofa
© William Cowper
I sing the Sofa. I who lately sang
Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe
Periander
© George Meredith
How died Melissa none dares shape in words.
A woman who is wife despotic lords
Count faggot at the question, Shall she live!
Her son, because his brows were black of her,
Runs barking for his bread, a fugitive,
And Corinth frowns on them that feed the cur.
Fulfilment
© Robert Nichols
Was there love once? I have forgotten her.
Was there grief once? Grief yet is mine.
Other loves I have, men rough, but men who stir
More grief, more joy, than love of thee and thine.
Psalm VII.
© John Milton
Lord my God if I have thought
Or done this, if wickedness
Be in my hands, if I have wrought
Ill to him that meant me peace,
Or to him have render'd less,
And fre'd my foe for naught;
The Cure
© Rudyard Kipling
To-day? God knows where he may lie-
His Cross of weathered beads above him:
But one not worthy to untie
His shoe-string, prays you read-and love him!
The Missionary - Canto First
© William Lisle Bowles
Three hundred brandished spears shone to the sky:
We perish, or we leave our country free;
Father, our blood for Chili and for thee!
The mountain-chief essayed his club to wield,
And shook the dust indignant from the shield.
Then spoke:--
Italy : 52. A Farewell
© Samuel Rogers
And now farewell to Italy -- perhaps
For ever! Yet, methinks, I could not go,
I could not leave it, were it mine to say,
'Farewell for ever!' Many a courtesy,
The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd version)
© John Clare
July the month of summers prime
Again resumes her busy time
Scythes tinkle in each grassy dell
Where solitude was wont to dwell
The Builders
© Henry Van Dyke
ODE FOR THE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF PRINCETON COLLEGE
October 21, 1896
The Death Of The First Born
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
COVER him over with daisies white,
And eke with the poppies red,
The Punishment Of Loke
© Madison Julius Cawein
The gods of Asaheim, incensed with Loke,
A whirlwind yoked with thunder-footed steeds,
And, carried thus, boomed o'er the booming seas,
Far as the teeming wastes of Jotunheim,
To punish Loke for all his wily crimes.
