Death poems
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Driving through Minnesota During the Hanoi Bombings
© Robert Bly
We drive between lakes just turning green;
Late June. The white turkeys have been moved
Between the Wars
© Robert Hass
When I ran, it rained. Late in the afternoon—
midsummer, upstate New York, mornings I wrote,
Caroline Chisholm
© Henry Kendall
THE PRIESTS and the Levites went forth, to feast at the courts of the Kings;
They were vain of their greatness and worth, and gladdened with glittering things;
They were fair in the favour of gold, and they walked on, with delicate feet,
Where, famished and faint with the cold, the women fell down in the street.
Liberation
© Sri Aurobindo
I have thrown from me the whirling dance of mind
And stand now in the spirit's silence free,
Timeless and deathless beyond creature-kind,
The centre of my own eternity.
Love and Death
© Lord Byron
I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at himor thee and me,
Were safety hopelessrather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty.
Our Pilots
© William Henry Ogilvie
You that run the reddened ditch among the drifted leaves
May set the pace to conquerors and guide the sons of kings!
Naucratia; Or Naval Dominion. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
Arm'd in her cause, on Chalgrave's fatal plain,
Where sorrowing Freedom mourns her Hambden slain,
Say, shall the moralizing bard presume
From his proud hearse to tear one warlike plume,
Because a Cæsar or a Cromwell wore
An impious wreath, wet with their country's gore?
For The Marriage of Faustus and Helen
© Hart Crane
There is the world dimensional for
those untwisted by the love of things
irreconcilable ...
Five Poems From “Helen: A Revision”
© Jack Spicer
Nothing is known about Helen but her voice
Strange glittering sparks
Lighting no fires but what is reechoed
Rechorded, set on the icy sea.
The Death Of Conradin
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
No cloud to dim the splendour of the day
Which breaks o'er Naples and her lovely bay,
And lights that brilliant sea and magic shore
With every tint that charmed the great of yore-
The imperial ones of earth, who proudly bade
Their marble domes e'en Ocean's realm invade.
Finished?
© Charles Bukowski
the critics now have me
drinking champagne and
driving a BMW
and also married to a
Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament
© Alfred Tennyson
To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."
The House of Life: 71. The Choice, I
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Now kiss, and think that there are really those,
My own high-bosom'd beauty, who increase
Vain gold, vain lore, and yet might choose our way!
Through many years they toil; then on a day
They die not,—for their life was death,—but cease;
And round their narrow lips the mould falls close.
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. The Landlord's Tale; The Rhyme of Sir Christopher
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was Sir Christopher Gardiner,
Knight of the Holy Sepulchre,
From Merry England over the sea,
Who stepped upon this continent
As if his august presence lent
A glory to the colony.
Arms and the Boy
© Wilfred Owen
Let the boy try along this bayonet-blade
How cold steel is, and keen with hunger of blood;
Blue with all malice, like a madman's flash;
And thinly drawn with famishing for flesh.
When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d
© Walt Whitman
1
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
A Holy Week Song, 1918
© Katharine Tynan
Now when Christ died for man his sake
A myriad men must die;
