Death poems
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To an ingenious young Gentleman, on his dedicating a Poem to the Author.
© Mather Byles
To you, dear Youth, whom all the Muses own,
And great Apollo speaks his darling Son,
Amelia
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Whene'er mine eyes do my Amelia greet
It is with such emotion
As when, in childhood, turning a dim street,
I first beheld the ocean.
To Mr. Blanchard, the Celebrated Aeronaut in America
© Philip Morin Freneau
Nil mortalibus ardui est
Caelum ipsum petimus stultitia
Horace
On the Universality and Other Attributes of the God of Nature
© Philip Morin Freneau
ALL that we see, about, abroad,
What is it all, but nature's God?
In meaner works discovered here
No less than in the starry sphere.
Sonnets of the Empire: Hawk
© Archibald Thomas Strong
Great sea dog, fighter in the great old way!
What though thy ships were tinder, and the pest
On The Death Of Dr. Benjamin Franklin
© Philip Morin Freneau
Thus, some tall tree that long hath stood
The glory of its native wood,
By storms destroyed, or length of years,
Demands the tribute of our tears.
An End
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
To few chords and sad and low
Sing we so:
Be our eyes fixed on the grass
Shadow-veiled as the years pass
While we think of all that was
In the long ago.
A Thought or Two on Reading Pomfret's
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
I have been reading Pomfret's "Choice" this spring,
A pretty kind of--sort of--kind of thing,
Not much a verse, and poem none at all,
Yet, as they say, extremely natural.
In Time of Pestilence
© Thomas Nashe
Adieu, farewell earth's bliss,
This world uncertain is;
Fond are life's lustful joys,
Death proves them all but toys,
To Robert Batty, M.D., on His Giving Me a Lock of Milton's Hair
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
There seems a love in hair, though it be dead.
It is the gentlest, yet the strongest thread
Of our frail plant,--a blossom from the tree
Surviving the proud trunk; as if it said,
Patience and gentleness in power. In me
Behold affectionate eternity.
Problems
© Madison Julius Cawein
Man's are the learnings of his books-
What is all knowledge that he knows
Beside the wit of winding brooks,
The wisdom of the summer rose!
The Rustic Life.
© Robert Crawford
Happy are ye who can put by the stress
Of so much of the trouble worldlings know;
Ye who seem almost creatures of the woods,
Now animal and now bird-like amid
Death Of Labour
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Methought a great wind swept across the earth,
And all the toilers perished. Then I saw
The Negro Boy
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
These tatter'd clothes, this ice-cold breast
By Winter harden'd into steel,
These eyes, that know not soothing rest,
But speak the half of what I feel!
Long, long, I never new one joy,
The little wand'ring Negro-boy!
Thy Faithfulness, Lord
© Charles Wesley
Thy faithfulness, Lord, Each moment we find,
So true to thy word, So loving and kind!
Thy mercy so tender To all the lost race,
The vilest offender May turn and find grace.
The Copperhead (1864)
© Francis Bret Harte
There is peace in the swamp where the Copperhead sleeps,
Where the waters are stagnant, the white vapor creeps,
Where the musk of Magnolia hangs thick in the air,
And the lilies` phylacteries broaden in prayer.
The Spring In Ireland: 1916
© James Brunton Stephens
In other lands they may,
With public joy or dole along the way,
With pomp and pageantry and loud lament
Of drums and trumpets, and with merriment
Of grateful hearts, lead into rest and sted
The nation's dead.
Scenes In London II - Oxford Street
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
LIFE in its many shapes was there,
The busy and the gay;
Faces that seemed too young and fair
To ever know decay.
The Island of Skyros
© John Masefield
Here, where we stood together, we three men,
Before the war had swept us to the East
Three thousand miles away, I stand again
And hear the bells, and breathe, and go to feast.
Written A Year After The Events
© Charles Lamb
Alas! how am I chang'd! Where be the tears,
The sobs, and forc'd suspensions of the breath,
