Death poems
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Glorious France
© Edgar Lee Masters
You have become a forge of snow-white fire,
A crucible of molten steel, O France!
The French Army In Russia, 1812-13
© William Wordsworth
HUMANITY, delighting to behold
A fond reflection of her own decay,
Hath painted Winter like a traveller old,
Propped on a staff, and, through the sullen day,
Sonnet XIX: On His Blindness
© John Milton
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
An Epistle To William Hogarth
© Charles Churchill
Amongst the sons of men how few are known
Who dare be just to merit not their own!
The Four Points
© Rudyard Kipling
Ere stopping or turning, to put forth a hande
Is a charm that thy daies may be long in the land.
Fire. (Sonnet II.)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Not without fire can any workman mould
The iron to his preconceived design,
Menace
© Katharine Tynan
Oh, when the land is white as milk
With bloom that lets no leaf between,
When trees are clad in grass-green silk
And thrushes sing in a gold screen:
What is it ails Dark Rosaleen?
To My Godchild-Francis M. W. M.
© Francis Thompson
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon,
Riding at anchor off the orient sun,
The Faithful Dog Fido
© William Topaz McGonagall
Little Fido's master had to go on a long journey,
So Fido followed her master, and ran cheerfully,
And often the master would speak kindly to the dog,
As along the road together they did jog.
Squire Hawkins's Story
© James Whitcomb Riley
He sized it all; and Patience laid
Her hand in John's, and looked afraid,
And waited. And a stiller set
O' folks, I KNOW, you never met
In any court room, where with dread
They wait to hear a verdick read.
At the Long Sault: May, 1660
© Archibald Lampman
All night by the foot of the mountain
The little town lieth at rest,
The sentries are peacefully pacing;
And neither from East nor from West
Pharsalia - Book V: The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
While soldier thus and chief,
In doubtful sort, against their hidden fate
Devised their counsel, Appius alone
Feared for the chances of the war, and sought
Through Phoebus' ancient oracle to break
The silence of the gods and know the end.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Theologian's Tale; Torquemada
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O pitiless skies! why did your clouds retain
For peasants' fields their floods of hoarded rain?
O pitiless earth! why open no abyss
To bury in its chasm a crime like this?
Life Or Death?
© George MacDonald
Is there a secret Joy, that may not weep,
For every flower that ends its little span,
The Muses Threnodie: Eighth Muse
© Henry Adamson
What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,
Or Almond doth embrace! These many a day
Posthumous Fame
© Kostas Karyotakis
Our death is needed by the boundless nature all around
and is craved by the purple mouths of flowers.
If Spring were again to come, it will again leave us,
and then we shall not even be shadows of other shadows.
Psalm 23 : The Lord My Pasture Shall Prepare
© Joseph Addison
The Lord my pasture shall prepare
And feed me with a shepherd's care;
His presence shall my wants supply
And guard me with a watchful eye;
My noonday walks He shall attend
And all my midnight hours defend.
The Model
© Harriet Monroe
Have you forgottenyou, the chief,
The art-director, president,
What not, of the establishment
Forgot how for a moment brief
The whole show, all our strife and stir,
Went outfor her?
Portrait From The Infantry
© Alan Dugan
He smelled bad and was red-eyed with the miseries
of being scared while sleepless when he said
