Death poems
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Twilight
© John Masefield
Twilight it is, and the far woods are dim, and the rooks
cry and call.
Down in the valley the lamps, and the mist, and a star over all,
There by the rick, where they thresh, is the drone at an end,
Twilight it is, and I travel the road with my friend.
The Death Of Shelley
© Charles Harpur
Fit winding-sheet for thee
Was the upheaving eternal sea,
Fit dirge the tempests slave-alarming roll
For yokeless as the waves alway
Styx River Anthology
© Carolyn Wells
A parody of Edgar Lee Masters' "Spoon River Anthology," wherein characters from famous poems and novels recite their own epithets.
ANNABEL LEE
They may say all they like
About germs and micro-crocuses -
To Duty
© Thomas Wentworth Higginson
LIGHT of dim mornings; shield from heat and cold;
Balm for all ailments; substitute for praise;
Voices Of The Night : L'Envoi
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ye voices, that arose
After the Evening's close,
And whispered to my restless heart repose!
Time Universality Of Grief
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I GRANT you that our fate is terrible,
Bitter as gall. What then? Will lamentation,
Childish complaint, everlasting wailings,
Grief, groans, despair, help to amend our doom?
The Duellist - Book II
© Charles Churchill
Deep in the bosom of a wood,
Out of the road, a Temple stood:
Song Be Delicate
© John Shaw Neilson
Let your song be delicate.
The skies declare
No war the eyes of lovers
Wake everywhere.
To the People Of the Future
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
This single link was else respected
By people of the days that gone
Dedication From Moremi
© Wole Soyinka
Earth will not share the rafter's envy; dung floors
Break, not the gecko's slight skin, but its fall
Taste this soil for death and plumb her deep for life
Ballade Of Dead Republics
© Edgar Lee Masters
Prince! 'tis the year of your jubilee,
The great republic is in your thrall.
And who will restore her armory?--
The Dragon of Greed destroyed them all!
The Shepheardes Calender: December
© Edmund Spenser
I thee beseche (so be thou deigne to heare,
Rude ditties tund to shepheards Oaten reede,
Or if I euer sonet song so cleare,
As it with pleasaunce mought thy fancie feede)
Hearken awhile from thy greene cabinet,
The rurall song of carefull Colinet.
On Hearing The Princess Royal Sing
© Victor Marie Hugo
In thine abode so high
Where yet one scarce can breathe,
Dear child, most tenderly
A soft song thou dost wreathe.
An Epistle To Dr. Moore
© Helen Maria Williams
Whether dispensing hope, and ease
To the pale victim of disease,
Or in the social crowd you sit,
And charm the group with sense and wit,
Moore's partial ear will not disdain
Attention to my artless strain.
The Martyrdom Of St. Christina, By Vincenzo Catena, In The Church Of Santa Maria Mater Domini, At Ve
© Richard Monckton Milnes
ST. CHRISTINA.
(KNEELING.)
I knew, I knew, it would be so,
That, in this long--expected hour,
Jeckoyva
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
They made the warrior's grave beside
The dashing of his native time:
Eclogue
© John Crowe Ransom
JANE SNEED BEGAN IT: My poor John, alas,
Ten years ago, pretty it was in a ring
To run as boys and girls do in the grass
At that time leap and hollo and skip and sing
Came easily to pass.
