Death poems

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To Heaven

© Benjamin Jonson

Good and great God, can I not think of thee

But it must straight my melancholy be?

Poets Have Chanted Mortality

© Pindar

It had better been hidden
But the Poets inform:
We are chattel and liege
Of an undying Worm.

The Ivy Green

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,

That creepeth oer ruins old!

Still Life in Landscape

© Sharon Olds

It was night, it had rained, there were pieces of cars and

half-cars strewn, it was still, and bright,

The Digging Skeleton

© Charles Baudelaire

I
In the anatomical plates
displayed on the dusty quays
where many a dry book sleeps

Stupid Meditation on Peace

© Robert Pinsky

Insomniac monkey-mind ponders the Dove,
Symbol not only of Peace but sexual
Love, the couple nestled and brooding.

Australia To England

© John Farrell

What of the years of Englishmen?

What have they brought of growth and grace

America

© Herman Melville

I

Where the wings of a sunny Dome expand

Memorial Verses April 1850

© Matthew Arnold

Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
But one such death remain'd to come;
The last poetic voice is dumb
We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb.

Wormwood And Nightshade

© Adam Lindsay Gordon

The troubles of life are many,
The pleasures of life are few;
When we sat in the sunlight, Annie,
I dreamt that the skies were blue -

Burns

© Fitz-Greene Halleck

WILD ROSE of Alloway! my thanks:
Thou 'mindst me of that autumn noon
When first we met upon "the banks
And braes o'bonny Doon."

Homer's Battle Of The Frogs And Mice. Book I

So pass'd Europa thro' the rapid Sea,
Trembling and fainting all the vent'rous Way;
With oary Feet the Bull triumphant rode,
And safe in Crete depos'd his lovely Load.
Ah safe at last! may thus the Frog support
My trembling Limbs to reach his ample Court.

I Shall Not Die For Thee

© Douglas Hyde

FOR thee, I shall not die,

Woman of high fame and name;

Lines In Memory Of Edmund Morris

How shall we transmit in tendril-like images,
The tenuous tremor in the tissues of ether,
Before the round of colour buds like the dome of a shrine,
The preconscious moment when love has fluttered in the bosom,
Before it begins to ache?

Almswomen

Many a time they kiss and cry, and pray
That both be summoned in the self-same day,
And wiseman linnet tinkling in his cage
End too with them the friendship of old age,
And all together leave their treasured room
Some bell-like evening when the may's in bloom.

A Farewell

© Edith Nesbit

Good-bye, good-bye; it is not hard to part!
You have my heart--the heart that leaps to hear
Your name called by an echo in a dream;
You have my soul that, like an untroubled stream,
Reflects your soul that leans so dear, so near -
Your heartbeats set the rhythm for my heart.

Forehead of the Rose

© René Char

Despite the open window in the room of long absence, the odor of the rose is still linked with the
breath that was there. Once again we are without previous experience, newcomers, in love. The
rose! The field of its ways would dispel even the effrontery of death. No grating stands in the way.
Desire is alive, an ache in our vaporous foreheads.