Death poems
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On Observing Some Names Of Little Note Recorded In The Biographia Britannica
© William Cowper
Oh fond attempt to give a deathless lot,
To names ignoble, born to be forgot!
Why Dost Thou Shade Thy Lovely Face?
© Francis Quarles
Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? Oh, why
Does that eclipsing hand so long deny
Hail! Master Death!
© Edgar Lee Masters
When conquerors lift the bloody shield,
Showing the fallen's ooze of life,
And on a waste of blasted field
Joy quickens to the drum and fife,
Against Frivolous Pursuits
© Confucius
Like splendid robes appear the wings
Of the ephemeral fly;
And such the pomp of those great men,
Which soon in death shall lie!
I grieve! Would they but come to me!
To teach them I should try.
The Pine's Mystery
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LISTEN! the sombre foliage of the Pine,
A swart Gitana of the woodland trees,
Is answering what we may but half divine
To those soft whispers of the twilight breeze!
Cooranbean
© Henry Kendall
Years fifty, and seven to boot, have smitten the children of men
Since sound of a voice or a foot came out of the head of that glen.
Flowers From Sion: Sonnet 25 - More oft than once death whispered
© William Henry Drummond
More oft than once death whispered in mine ear:
Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold -
Margrave
© Robinson Jeffers
But who is our judge? It is likely the enormous
Beauty of the world requires for completion our ghostly increment,
It has to dream, and dream badly, a moment of its night.
The Princess (part 1)
© Alfred Tennyson
A prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face,
Of temper amorous, as the first of May,
With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl,
For on my cradle shone the Northern star.
The Old Player
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE curtain rose; in thunders long and loud
The galleries rung; the veteran actor bowed.
The Snows Of Spring
© Robert Laurence Binyon
O wailing gust, what hast thou brought with thee,
What sting of desolation? But an hour,
And brave was every shy new--opened flower
Smiling in sun beneath a budding tree.
The Golden Game
© Norman Rowland Gale
If ever there was a Golden Game
To brace the nerves, to cure repining,
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet VII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
But where he fared and how, it matters not.
He and his mourning ere a month had run
Were out of mind with all and clean forgot,
Kinsman and friend and foe: save only one,
Wine And Joy
© Fyodor Sologub
Wine and joy are completely forgotten,
As well as his armor and sword.
Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; III:
© Ellis Parker Butler
Little Ballads Of Timely Warning; III: On Laziness And Its Resultant Ills
There was a man in New York City
(His name was George Adolphus Knight)
So soft of heart he wept with pity
To see our language and its plight.
The Sylph Of Summer
© William Lisle Bowles
God said, Let there be light, and there was light!
At once the glorious sun, at his command,
