Death poems
/ page 368 of 560 /
On the Death of M. DOssoli and His Wife Margaret Fuller
© Walter Savage Landor
OVER his millions Death has lawful power,
But over thee, brave DOssoli! none, none.
After a longer struggle, in a fight
Worthy of Italy, to youth restord,
Song Of The Broad-Axe
© Walt Whitman
Strong shapes, and attributes of strong shapes-masculine trades,
sights and sounds;
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music;
Fingers of the organist skipping staccato over the keys of the great
organ.
OShea
© Alice Guerin Crist
OShea was a big railway ganger, clean-hearted, and clean-limbed and shy,
With a glint of grey hair at his temples, and smile in his Irish blue eye;
Hed but one speech for every occasion, as you told him the news of the day,
And I know I will shock pious people-but poor Tim meant no harm when hes say.
Aw! glong, go-to-hell, go-to-hell now! In a mildly expostulant way.
Quia Nominor Leo: Sonnets
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
I.
WHAT part is left thee, lion? Ravenous beast,
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
Meadowlarks
© Sara Teasdale
IN the silver light after a storm,
Under dripping boughs of bright new green,
I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks
Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen.
Consummatum Est
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'VE done with all the world can give,
Whate'er its kind or measure.
(O Christ! what paltry lives we live
If toil be lord, or pleasure!).
On The Edge Of The Wilderness
© William Morris
Whence comest thou, and whither goest thou?
Abide! abide! longer the shadows grow;
What hopest thou the dark to thee will show?
On The Death Of Lieutenant-Colonel Buller, Killed In Flanders In 1795
© Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Scarce hush'd the sigh, scarce dried the ling'ring
tear,
The Boat On The Serchio
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream,
The helm sways idly, hither and thither;
Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast,
And the oars, and the sails; but tis sleeping fast,
Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.
Venetian Epigrams
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd.
-----
CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress,
The Triumph of Dead : Chap. 1
© Mary Sidney Herbert
That gallant lady, gloriously bright,
The stately pillar once of worthiness,
A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months
© Phillis Wheatley
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Beauty. Part III.
© Henry James Pye
'Tis in the mind that Beauty stands confess'd,
In all the noblest pride of glory dress'd,
Where virtue's rules the conscious bosom arm,
There to our eyes she spreads her brightest charm:
There all her rays, with force collected, shine,
Proclaim her worth, and speak her race divine.
The Wish Of To-Day
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I ask not now for gold to gild
With mocking shine a weary frame;
The yearning of the mind is stilled,
I ask not now for Fame.
November
© Robert Nichols
Oozed from the bracken's desolate track,
By dark rains havocked and drenched black.
A fog about the coppice drifts,
Or slowly thickens up and lifts
Into the moist, despondent air.
