Death poems

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The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.

John

© Edgar Bowers

Before he wrote a poem, he learned the measure

That living in the future gives a farm-

Homage To Sextus Propertius - III

© Ezra Pound

Midnight, and a letter comes to me from our mistress:
Telling me to come to Tibur:
At once!!
'Bright tips reach up from twin towers,
'Anienan spring water falls into flat-spread pools.'

Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.

Sonnet 81: "Or shall I live your epitaph to make,..."

© William Shakespeare

Or I shall live your epitaph to make,

Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,

Ocean Oneness

© Sri Aurobindo

Silence is round me, wideness ineffable;
White birds on the ocean diving and wandering;
A soundless sea on a voiceless heaven,
Azure on azure, is mutely gazing.

Quieta Ne Movete II

© Edith Nesbit

IF one should wake one's frozen faith

In sunlight of her radiant eyes,

On A Great Warrior

© Henry Abbey

When all the sky was wild and dark,

When every heart was wrung with fear,

Spleen (II)

© Charles Baudelaire

Time has gone lame, and limps; and under a thick pall
Of snow the endless years efface and muffle all;
Till boredom, fruit of the mind's inert, incurious tree,
Assumes the shape and size of immortality.

The Beggars Castle

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Those ruins took my thoughts away
To a far eastern land;
Like camels, in a herd they lay
Upon the dull red sand;
I know not that I ever sate
Within a place so desolate.

The Spagnoletto. Act V

© Emma Lazarus

DON TOMMASO.
If he still live, now shall we hear of him.
The news I learn will lure him from his covert,
Where'er it lie, to pardon or avenge.

Paradise Regain'd : Book I.

© John Milton

I, who erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,

Plegaria (Prayer)

© Delmira Agustini

Spanish
Eros: acaso no sentiste nunca
Piedad de las estatuas?
Se dirían crisálidas de piedra

The Game

Old courtesans in washed-out armchairs,
pale, eyebrows blacked, eyes tender, fatal,
simpering still, and from their skinny ears
loosing their waterfalls of stone and metal:

The Four Seasons : Summer

From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,