Death poems
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The Burning Of The Leaves
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The last hollyhock's fallen tower is dust;
All the spices of June are a bitter reek,
All the extravagant riches spent and mean.
All burns! The reddest rose is a ghost;
Sparks whirl up, to expire in the mist: the wild
Fingers of fire are making corruption clean.
Burial of Barber
© John Greenleaf Whittier
One more look of that dead face,
Of his murder's ghastly trace!
One more kiss, O widowed one!
Lay your left hands on his brow,
Lift you right hands up and vow
That his work shall yet be done.
To William Lloyd Garrison
© John Greenleaf Whittier
CHAMPION of those who groan beneath
Oppression's iron hand:
In view of penury, hate, and death,
I see thee fearless stand.
Undine
© Kenneth Slessor
IN Undine's mirror the cutpurse found
Five candlesticks by magic drowned,
Like boughs of silver . . . and pale as death,
Biting his beard, till the rogue's own breath
Lost in the Flood
© Henry Kendall
WHEN God drave the ruthless waters
From our cornfields to the sea,
"The Undying One" - Canto III
© Caroline Norton
"I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
The Reformer
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Hyde Park
August from a vault of hollow brass
Steep upon the sullen city glares.
Yellower burns the sick and parching grass,
Shivering in the breath of furnace airs.
Epipsychidion
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sweet Spirit! Sister of that orphan one,
Whose empire is the name thou weepest on,
In my heart's temple I suspend to thee
These votive wreaths of withered memory.
Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-Four
© Henry Kendall
I HEAR no footfall beating through the dark,
A lonely gust is loitering at the pane;
There is no sound within these forests stark
Beyond a splash or two of sullen rain;
The Field Of Battle
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
The Deed of Blood is o'er!
And, hark, the Trumpet's mournful breath
Low murmurs round it a Note of Death—
The Mighty are no more!
The Wheat And Tares
© John Newton
Though in the outward church below
The wheat and tares together grow;
Jesus ere long will weed the crop,
And pluck the tares, in anger, up.
The Battle Of Sherramuir
© Robert Burns
"O cam ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
The Nuptials Of Attila
© George Meredith
Hatred of that abject slave,
Earth, was in each chieftain's heart.
Earth has got him, whom God gave,
Earth may sing, and earth shall smart!
Attila, my Attila!
Vaudracour And Julia
© William Wordsworth
O HAPPY time of youthful lovers (thus
My story may begin) O balmy time,
In which a love-knot on a lady's brow
Is fairer than the fairest star in heaven!
The Land Of Illusion
© Madison Julius Cawein
So we had come at last, my soul and I,
Into that land of shadowy plain and peak,
On which the dawn seemed ever about to break
On which the day seemed ever about to die.
The Battle Of The Nile
© William Lisle Bowles
Shout! for the Lord hath triumphed gloriously!
Upon the shores of that renowned land,
The Mermaid
© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom
Leaving the sea, the pale moon lights the strand.
Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand.
And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair,
Down to her feet extends her dripping hair.
Her Portrait
© Francis Thompson
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I hold
Of that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!
To The Spade Of A Friend (An Agriculturist)
© William Wordsworth
SPADE! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,
And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side,
Thou art a tool of honour in my hands;
I press thee, through the yielding soil, with pride.
