Death poems
/ page 307 of 560 /
Sir Peter Harpdon's End
© William Morris
John Curzon
Of those three prisoners, that before you came
We took down at St. John's hard by the mill,
Two are good masons; we have tools enough,
And you have skill to set them working.
What loves, takes away
© Hugo Williams
If the nose of the pig in the market of Firenze
has lost its matte patina, and shines, brassy,
One Day's Command
© Anonymous
The plumed staff officer gallops
Along the swaying line,
That shakes as, beaten by hailstones,
Shakes the loaded autumn vine;
And the earth beneath is reddened,
But not with the stain of wine.
A Mystery Play
© Duncan Campbell Scott
There must be fire in the city
To throw that yellow glare;
And fire in the little villages
On all the hearthstones there.
Fand, A Feerie Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
[She looks towards the sea.
Attendant. None.
The sea mist drives too thickly.
England CXVII
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
Yet, though treason and fierce unreason should league and lie and defame
and smite,
We that know thee, how far below thee the hatred burns of the sons of
night,
We that love thee, behold above thee the witness written of life in
light.
A Soul in Prison
© Augusta Davies Webster
"They," you'd answer me,
if you owned my instance, "sorrowed in their doubt,
and did not wholly doubt, and loved."
The Man Splitting Wood in the Daybreak
© Washington Allston
The man splitting wood in the daybreak
looks strong, as though, if one weakened,
A Grave By The Sea
© George Essex Evans
No white cloud sails the lonely sky,
Thro the gaunt trees no breezes sigh,
Sonnet LXVI: Tir'd with all these, for Restful Death
© William Shakespeare
Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 07:
© Conrad Aiken
Study them . . . you will see there, in the porcelain,
If you stare hard enough, a sort of swimming
Of lights and shadows, ghosts within a crystal
My brain unfolding! There you'll see me sitting
Day after day, close to a certain window,
Looking down, sometimes, to see the people . . .
The Banks Of Wye - Book III
© Robert Bloomfield
PEACE to your white-wall'd cots, ye vales,
Untainted fly your summer gales;
"Many in aftertimes will say of you"
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Vien dietro a me e lascia dir le genti. Dante
Contando i casi della vita nostra. Petrarca
On the Death of the Late Earl of Rochester
© Aphra Behn
Mourn, mourn, ye Muses, all your loss deplore,
The young, the noble Strephon is no more.
The Words Under the Words
© Naomi Shihab Nye
for Sitti Khadra, north of Jerusalem
My grandmother’s hands recognize grapes,
the damp shine of a goat’s new skin.
When I was sick they followed me,
I woke from the long fever to find them
covering my head like cool prayers.
Julian and Maddalo
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
As thus I spoke
Servants announc'd the gondola, and we
Through the fast-falling rain and high-wrought sea
Sail'd to the island where the madhouse stands.
