Death poems
/ page 213 of 560 /Broken Wings
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
GRAY-HEADED POETS, whom the full years bless
With life and health and chance still multiplied
To hold your forward course fame and success
Close at your side;
Weighing The Baby
© Ethel Lynn Eliot Beers
"How many pounds does the baby weigh -
Baby who came but a month ago?
How many pounds from the crowning curl
To the rosy point of the restless toe?"
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XXVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
She wakes, she breathes, she rises from her bed,
That bed of death where she has lain so long;
The flowers they set there fall from her fair head
Withered, while she, sweet soul, has known no wrong.
The Pleasures of Imagination: Book The First
© Mark Akenside
With what attractive charms this goodly frame
Of nature touches the consenting hearts
Monument
© Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin
I built myself a monument, eternal and miraculous,
It's higher than the Pyramids, than metal it is harder;
Swift winds and thunder cannot knock it down
The flight of time cannot demolish it.
A Revolutionary Hero
© James Russell Lowell
Old Joe is gone, who saw hot Percy goad
His slow artillery up the Concord road,
In Memoriam
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Yet not of these I muse
In this ancestral place,
But of a kindred face
That never joy or hope shall here diffuse.
To Lydia
© Eugene Field
When, Lydia, you (once fond and true,
But now grown cold and supercilious)
Praise Telly's charms of neck and arms--
Well, by the dog! it makes me bilious!
At William Maclennan's Grave
© Duncan Campbell Scott
Here where the cypress tall
Shadows the stucco wall,
Bronze and deep,
Where the chrysanthemums blow,
And the roses--blood and snow--
He lies asleep.
The Bill of the Ages
© Henry Lawson
He has rowed to a wreck, when the lifeboat failed, with Jim in a crazy boat;
He has given his lifebelt many a time, and sunk that another might float.
He has stood em off while others escaped, when the niggers rushed from the hill,
And rescue parties who came too late have found what was left of Bill.
At Parting
© Edith Nesbit
Go, since you must, but, Dearest, know
That, Honour having bid you go,
Your honour, if your life be spent,
Shall have a costly monument.
The Woman of Whom Satan Had Bound
© George MacDonald
For years eighteen she, patient soul,
Her eyes had graveward sent;
Her earthly life was lapt in dole,
She was so bowed and bent.
The Angel
© Virna Sheard
Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread
He came ere break of day--
A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head,
His misty robes were grey.
Ultima Ratio Regum
© Stephen Spender
The guns spell money's ultimate reason
In letters of lead on the spring hillside.
But the boy lying dead under the olive trees
Was too young and too silly
To have been notable to their important eye.
He was a better target for a kiss.
The Judgement of Hercules
© William Shenstone
Wrapp'd in a pleased suspense, the youth survey'd
The various charms of each attractive maid:
Alternate each he view'd, and each admired,
And found, alternate, varying flames inspired:
Quick o'er their forms his eyes with pleasure ran,
When she, who first approach'd him, first began:-
The Bread Of Angels
© Edith Wharton
At last, upon my wonder drawn, I followed
The secret wanderers till I saw them pause
Before the dying glare of those tall panes
Where greed and surfeit nodded face to face
O'er the picked bones of pleasure . . .
And the door opened and the nuns went in.
The Robe
© Jones Very
Each naked branch, the yellow leaf or brown,
The rugged rock, and death-deformed plain
Space And Dread and The Dark
© William Ernest Henley
Space and dread and the dark -
Over a livid stretch of sky