Death poems
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A Requiem
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Neobule, being tired,
Far too tired to laugh or weep,
From the hours, rosy and gray,
Hid her golden face away.
Neobule, fain of sleep,
Slept at last as she desired!
I Ain't Dead Yet
© Edgar Albert Guest
Time was I used to worry and I'd sit around an' sigh,
And think with every ache I got that I was goin' to die,
Thou Shall Not Kill
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
I had grown weary of him; of his breath
And hands and features I was sick to death.
Each day I heard the same dull voice and tread;
I did not hate him: but I wished him dead.
And he must with his blank face fill my life--
Then my brain blackened; and I snatched a knife.
The Lighthouse
© Alaric Alexander Watts
Yes, Desolation, on her viewless wing,
Even now, perhaps, is speeding with the blast
The Prisoner
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
All day I lie beneath the great pine tree,
Whose perfumed branches wave and shadow me.
Musings
© Madison Julius Cawein
All who have toiled for Art, who've won or lost,
Sat equal priests at her high Pentecost;
Only the chrism and sacrament of flame,
Anointing all, inspired not all the same.
Theology in Extremis: Or a soliloquy that may have been delivered in India, June, 1857
© Alfred Comyn Lyall
Oft in the pleasant summer years,
Reading the tales of days bygone,
I have mused on the story of human tears,
All that man unto man had done,
Massacre, torture, and black despair;
Reading it all in my easy-chair.
The Mother's Lesson
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Come hither an' sit on my knee, Willie,
Come hither an' sit on my knee,
Hyperion, A Vision: Attempted Reconstruction Of The Poem
© John Keats
"With such remorseless speed still come new woes,
That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
Saturn! sleep on: me thoughtless, why should I
Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
Saturn! sleep on, while at thy feet I weep."
The Spirit Of Discovery By Sea - Book The Second
© William Lisle Bowles
Oh for a view, as from that cloudless height
Where the great Patriarch gazed upon the world,
On Revisiting The Sea-Shore, After Long Absence, Under Strong Medical Recommendation Not To Bathe
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
God be with thee, gladsome Ocean!
How gladly greet I thee once more!
Ships and waves, and ceaseless motion,
And men rejoicing on thy shore.
Epitaph On A Child
© Henry James Pye
Cruel the pang to hear the struggling sigh,
Watch o'er the faded cheek and closing eye;
Ode To A Butterfly
© Thomas Wentworth Higginson
Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
Three Studies From A Portrait
© Margaret Widdemer
1
OLD TALES
HER voice within the darkened room
Tells on old jests and tragedies
And little follies of her kin
And futile old nobilities:
The Departure of Summer
© Thomas Hood
Summer is gone on swallows' wings,
And Earth has buried all her flowers:
No more the lark,the linnetsings,
But Silence sits in faded bowers.
For He Had Great Possessions
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
And I had died before the spring had come,
When winter's kiss upon the fields was cold,
The Song The Oriole Sings
© William Dean Howells
There is a bird that comes and sings
In a professor's garden-trees;
Upon the English oak he swings,
And tilts and tosses in the breeze.
Battle
© Robert Nichols
It is midday; the deep trench glares….
A buzz and blaze of flies….
The hot wind puffs the giddy airs….
The great sun rakes the skies.
