Death poems
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The Golden Legend: III. A Street In Strasburg
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Crier of the dead (ringing a bell)._ Wake! wake!
All ye that sleep!
Pray for the Dead!
Pray for the Dead!
From Myrtis
© Walter Savage Landor
FRIENDS, whom she lookd at blandly from her couch
And her white wrist above it, gem-bedewd,
Were arguing with Pentheusa: she had heard
Report of Creons death, whom years before
Battle Of Brunanburgh
© Alfred Tennyson
Theirs was a greatness
Got from their Grandsires-
Theirs that so often in
Strife with their enemies
Struck for their hoards and their hearths and their homes.
Sonnet XXIX. Life And Death. 1.
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
O SOLEMN portal, veiled in mist and cloud,
Where all who have lived throng in, an endless line,
Forbid to tell by backward look or sign
What destiny awaits the advancing crowd;
A Farewell
© Alfred Austin
Hark! What is that we hear?
A quick-jerked, jocund peal,
Making the fretted church tower reel,
Telling the wakeful of a young New Year,
Young, but of lusty birth,
To face the masked vicissitudes of earth.
The Vine
© Henry James Pye
Like clustering tents upon the embattled mead,
See Vitis thick her small pavilions spread.
Sonnet LXXXV: Vain Virtues
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
What is the sorriest thing that enters Hell?
None of the sins,but this and that fair deed
The Laureate
© Robert Graves
Like a lizard in the sun, though not scuttling
When men approach, this wretch, this thing of rage,
Scowls and sits rhyming in his horny age.
The Wood
© Madison Julius Cawein
Witch-hazel, dogwood, and the maple here;
And there the oak and hickory;
Linn, poplar, and the beech-tree, far and near
As the eased eye can see.
The Vision Of Echard
© John Greenleaf Whittier
The Benedictine Echard
Sat by the wayside well,
Where Marsberg sees the bridal
Of the Sarre and the Moselle.
To His Father
© Robinson Jeffers
Christ was your lord and captain all your life,
He fails the world but you he did not fail,
The Old M en
© Rudyard Kipling
This is our lot if we live so long and labour unto the end
Then we outlive the impatient years and the much too patient friend:
And because we know we have breath in our mouth and think we have thoughts enough in our head,
We shall assume that we are alive, whereas we are really dead.
A Book of Dreams: Part II
© George MacDonald
A great church in an empty square,
A place of echoing tones;
Feet pass not oft enough to wear
The grass between the stones.
Tree, Old Tree Of The Triple Crook
© William Ernest Henley
Tree, Old Tree of the Triple Crook
And the rope of the Black Election,
A Postscript unto the Reader
© Michael Wigglesworth
And now good Reader, I return again
To talk with thee, who hast been at the pain
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 05:
© Conrad Aiken
Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops,
Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass.
A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing,
Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant,
And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass.
