Death poems
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The Subterranean River, At Cong.
© Richard Monckton Milnes
A pleasant mean of joy and wonder fills
The trave'ller's mind, beside this secret stream,
That flows from lake to lake beneath the hills,
And penetrates their slumber like a dream.
The Year-King
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
It is the last of all the days,
The day on which the Old Year dies.
Ah! yes, the fated hour is near;
I see upon his snow-white bier
Outstretched the weary wanderer lies,
And mark his dying gaze.
Grandmother's Story Of Bunker Hill Battle (as she saw it from the Belfry)
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'Tis like stirring living embers when, at eighty, one remembers
All the achings and the quakings of "the times that tried men's souls";
When I talk of Whig and Tory, when I tell the Rebel story,
To you the words are ashes, but to me they're burning coals.
Giovanni Malatesta At Rimini
© Arthur Symons
Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man,
Walking one night, as he was used, being old,
The Maid-Martyr
© Jean Ingelow
Her face, O! it was wonderful to me,
There was not in it what I look'd for-no,
I never saw a maid go to her death,
How should I dream that face and the dumb soul?
Sandalphon. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Have you read in the Talmud of old,
In the Legends the Rabbins have told
Of the limitless realms of the air,--
Have you read it,--the marvellous story
Of Sandalphon, the Angel of Glory,
Sandalphon, the Angel of Prayer?
Hongree and Mahry
© William Schwenck Gilbert
The sun was setting in its wonted west,
When HONGREE, Sub-Lieutenant of Chassoores,
Met MAHRY DAUBIGNY, the Village Rose,
Under the Wizard's Oak - old trysting-place
Of those who loved in rosy Aquitaine.
"The people have drunk the wine of peace"
© Lesbia Harford
The people have drunk the wine of peace
In the streets of town.
They smile as they drift with hearts at rest
Uphill and down.
To --------
© Anne Brontë
And if thy life as transient proved,
It hath been full as bright,
For thou wert hopeful and beloved;
Thy spirit knew no blight.
Greatest of beings! Source of life!
© George Dyer
Greatest of beings! Source of life!
Sovereign of air, and earth, and sea!
All nature feels thy power, and all
A silent homage pays to Thee.
Alfred. Book V.
© Henry James Pye
As o'er the tented field the squadrons spread,
Stretch'd on the turf the hardy soldier's bed;
While the strong mound, and warder's careful eyes,
Protect the midnight camp from quick surprise,
A voice, in hollow murmurs from the plain,
Attracts the notice of the wakeful train.
Book Fourteenth [conclusion]
© William Wordsworth
In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
An Essay on Death and a Prison
© Henry King
A prison is in all things like a grave,
Where we no better priviledges have
Then dead men, nor so good. The soul once fled
Lives freer now, then when she was cloystered
The Coming Era
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THEY tell us that the Muse is soon to fly hence,
Leaving the bowers of song that once were dear,
Her robes bequeathing to her sister, Science,
The groves of Pindus for the axe to clear.
Tiber, Nile, And Thames
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
THE head and hands of murdered Cicero,
Above his seat high in the Forum hung,
Ave Maria
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
In the darkness of the night I wake and weep,
Ave Maria, hear my cry!
All that I am not drives my soul from sleep,
Ave Maria, hear my cry!
Flower of Love
© Oscar Wilde
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common
clay
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the
larger day.
