Death poems
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At Her Door
© Roderic Quinn
OPEN! Open! Open!
I am here at your door outside;
The sea's blue tide flows speedily,
And ebbs a thin red tide."
Resigned
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
My babe was moaning in its sleep,
I leaned and kissed it where it lay,
My pain was such I could not weep,
Oh, would God take my child away?
He had so many round his throne-
If He took mine-I stood alone!
The Death-Day Of Korner
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A song for the death-day of the brave
A song of pride!
The youth went down to a hero's grave,
With the sword, his bride.
Devotion. -- A Vision
© Gerald Griffin
Methought I roved on shining walks,
'Mid odorous groves and wreathed bowers.
Good-bye
© Ada Cambridge
Good-bye! - 'tis like a churchyard bell - good-bye!
Poor weeping eyes! Poor head, bowed down with woe!
Kiss me again, dear love, before you go.
Ah, me, how fast the precious moments fly!
Good-bye! Good-bye!
The Sensitive Plant
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
PART 1.
A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew,
And the young winds fed it with silver dew,
And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light.
And closed them beneath the kisses of Night.
Death Alone
© Pablo Neruda
Death is drawn to sound
like a slipper without a foot, a suit without its wearer,
comes to knock with a ring, stoneless and fingerless,
comes to shout without a mouth, a tongue, without a throat.
Nevertheless its footsteps sound
and its clothes echo, hushed like a tree.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 82
© Alfred Tennyson
For this alone on Death I wreak
The wrath that garners in my heart;
He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe
© Stéphane Mallarme
Such as at last eternity transforms into Himself,
The Poet rouses with two-edged naked sword,
His century terrified at having ignored
Death triumphant in so strange a voice!
The House Of Falling Leaves
© William Stanley Braithwaite
If change and fate and hapless circumstance
May baffle and perplex the moaning sea,
And day and night in alternate advance
Still hold the primal Reasoning in fee,
Cannot my Grief be strong enough to chance
My voice across the tide I cannot see?
After The Funeral (In Memory Of Ann Jones)
© Dylan Thomas
After the funeral, mule praises, brays,
Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap
Of The Three Seekers
© William Morris
Whither away to seek good cheer?
Ah me! said the third, that my love were anear!
Were the world as little as it is wide,
In a happy house should ye abide.
Were the world as kind as it is hard,
Ye should behold a fair reward.
A Niello
© Madison Julius Cawein
It is not early spring and yet
Of bloodroot blooms along the stream,
And blotted banks of violet,
My heart will dream.
The Cottage On The Hill
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ON a steep hillside, to all airs that blow,
Open, and open to the varying sky,
Our cottage homestead, smiling tranquilly,
Catches morn's earliest and eve's latest glow;
Hadramauti
© Rudyard Kipling
So it is not in the Desert. One came to me weeping
The Avenger of Blood on his trackI took him in keeping.
Demanding not whom he had slain, I refreshed him, I fed him
As he were even a brother. But Eblis had bred him.
Daisies
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Cover, white snowflakes, the spot where they lie,
Scarce living the length of a winter's short noon.
Oh! cover them whitely that no one may find
The grave of my daisies that blossomed too soon.
The Fate of the Explorers (A Fragment)
© Henry Kendall
Through that night he uttered little, rambling were the words he spoke:
And he turned and died in silence, when the tardy morning broke.
Many memories come together whilst in sight of death we dwell,
Much of sweet and sad reflection through the weary mind must well.
As those long hours glided past him, till the east with light was fraught,
Who may know the mournful secret who can tell us what he thought?
