Death poems
/ page 406 of 560 /
On The Hurricane
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
The present Owner lifts his Eyes,
And the swift Change with sad Affrightment spies:
The Cieling gone, that late the Roof conceal'd;
The Roof untyl'd, thro' which the Heav'ns reveal'd,
Exposes now his Head, when all Defence has fail'd.
On the Death of the Honourable Mr. James Thynne
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Farewell, lov'd Youth! since 'twas the Will of Heaven
So soon to take, what had so late been giv'n;
And thus our Expectations to destroy,
Raising a Grief, where we had form'd a Joy;
La Passion Vaincue
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
On the Banks of the Severn a desperate Maid
(Whom some Shepherd, neglecting his Vows, had betray'd,)
Stood resolving to banish all Sense of the Pain,
And pursue, thro' her Death, a Revenge on the Swain.
Sonnet XLVI: Plain-Path'd Experience
© Michael Drayton
Plain-path'd Experience, th'unlearned's guide,
Her simple followers evidently shows
From The First Act Of The Aminta Of Tasso
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Daphne's Answer to Sylvia, declaring she
should esteem all as Enemies,
who should talk to her of LOVE.
The Innocent Ill
© Abraham Cowley
Though all thy gestures and discourses be
Coin'd and stamp'd by modesty;
To the Memory of Mrs. Lefroy who died Dec:r 16 -- my Birthday.
© Jane Austen
Angelic Woman! past my power to praise
In Language meet, thy Talents, Temper, mind.
Thy solid Worth, they captivating Grace!--
Thou friend and ornament of Humankind!--
For The Better
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Nay then Farewel! I need no more attend
The Quack replies. A sad approaching Friend
Questions the Sick, why he retires so fast;
Who says, because of Fees I've paid the Last,
And, whilst all Symptoms tow'rd my Cure agree,
Am, for the Better, Dying as you see.
The Holy Grail
© Alfred Tennyson
`Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this
To all men; and myself fasted and prayed
Always, and many among us many a week
Fasted and prayed even to the uttermost,
Expectant of the wonder that would be.
Miss Lloyd has now went to Miss Green
© Jane Austen
Miss Lloyd has now sent to Miss Green,
As, on opening the box, may be seen,
Some years of a Black Ploughman's Gauze,
To be made up directly, because
The War Sonnets: I. Peace
© Rupert Brooke
Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,
Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,
Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there
But only agony, and that has ending;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.
A Woman Commends Her Little Son
© Katharine Tynan
To the aid of my little son
I call all the magnalities --
Archangel, Dominion,
Powers and Principalities.
Preservation
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
My maiden she proved false to me;
To hate all joys I soon began,
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto XII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Churl
This marks the Churl: when spousals crown
His selfish hope, he finds the grace,
Which sweet love has for even the clown,
Was not in the woman, but the chace.
The Hermit Goes Up Attic
© Maxine Kumin
By 1816, whatever the crop goes sour.
Three tallies cut by the knife are all
in a powder of dead flies and wood dust pale as flour.
Death, if it came then, has since gone dry and small.
In the Park
© Maxine Kumin
and no choosing what to come back as.
When the grizzly bear appears, he lies/lays down
on atheist and zealot.In the pitch-dark
each of us waits for him in Glacier Park.
Hymn to the Sun
© Thomas Hood
Giver of glowing light!
Though but a god of other days,
The kings and sages
Of wiser ages
Listen, Lord: A Prayer
© James Weldon Johnson
O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before Thy throne of grace.
O Lord--this morning--
Go Down, Death
© James Weldon Johnson
And Jesus took his own hand and wiped away her tears,
And he smoothed the furrows from her face,
And the angels sang a little song,
And Jesus rocked her in his arms,
And kept a-saying: Take your rest,
Take your rest.
