Death poems
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Her Memories
© Augusta Davies Webster
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
The Philosopher's Oration: A Faun's Holiday
© Robert Nichols
Meanwhile, though nations in distress
Cower at a comet's loveliness
Shaken across the midnight sky;
Though the wind roars, and Victory,
Farewell Dark Gaol
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I am your debtor thus and for the pang
Which touched and chastened, and the nights of thought
Which were my years of learning. See I hang
Your image here, a glory all unsought,
About my neck. Thus saints in symbol hold
Their tools of death and darings manifold.
Choriambics -- I
© Rupert Brooke
Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring
Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring;
Song Of The Jade Cup
© Li Po
A jade cup was broken because old age came
too soon to give fulfilment to hopes; after drinking
three cups of wine I wiped my sword and
started to dance under an autumn moon first
Impressions De Nuit London
© Lord Alfred Douglas
That's the great town at night : I see her breasts,
Pricked out with lamps they stand like huge black towers.
I think they move ! I hear her panting breath.
And that's her head where the tiara rests.
And in her brain, through lanes as dark as death,
Men creep like thoughts . . . The lamps are like pale flowers.
To Arthur Upson
© William Stanley Braithwaite
How placidly this silent river rolls
Under the midnight stars before our feet,
On A Young Poetesss Grave
© William Cosmo Monkhouse
UNDER her gentle seeing,
In her delicate little hand,
On Hearing The News From Venice
© George Meredith
(The Death Of Robert Browning)
Now dumb is he who waked the world to speak,
April
© Rémy Belleau
April, pride of woodland ways,
Of glad days,
April, bringing hope of prime,
To the young flowers that beneath
Their bud sheath
Are guarded in their tender time;
The Sea-Limits
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
CONSIDER the sea's listless chime:
Time's self it is, made audible,
On the Death of Mr. William Hervey
© Abraham Cowley
IT was a dismal and a fearful night:
Scarce could the Morn drive on th' unwilling Light,
At Last
© James Whitcomb Riley
A dark, tempestuous night; the stars shut in
With shrouds of fog; an inky, jet-black blot
The firmament; and where the moon has been
An hour agone seems like the darkest spot.
The weird wind--furious at its demon game--
Rattles one's fancy like a window-frame.
The Idlers Calendar. Twelve Sonnets For The Months. January
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
COVER SHOOTING
The week at Whinwood next to Christmas week.
Six guns, no more, but all good men and true,
Of the clean--visaged sort, with ruddy cheek
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 2. The Musician's Tale; The Ballad of Carmilhan - IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And now along the horizon's edge
Mountains of cloud uprose,
Black as with forests underneath,
Above their sharp and jagged teeth
Were white as drifted snows.
Let America Be America Again
© Langston Hughes
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
The Harp Of Hoel
© William Lisle Bowles
It was a high and holy sight,
When Baldwin and his train,
With cross and crosier gleaming bright,
Came chanting slow the solemn rite,
To Gwentland's pleasant plain.
Fit The First: The Landing
© Lewis Carroll
The crew was complete: it included a Boots
A maker of Bonnets and Hoods
A Barrister, brought to arrange their disputes
And a Broker, to value their goods.
