Death poems

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The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Promised Land

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

As on this world the young man turns his eyes,
When forced to try the dark sea of the grave,
Thus did we gaze upon that Paradise,
Fading, as we were borne across the wave.

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The Duellist - Book III

© Charles Churchill

Ah me! what mighty perils wait

The man who meddles with a state,

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Dead Horse In Field

© Robert Penn Warren

At evening I watch the buzzards, the crows,
Arise. They swing black in nature’s flow and perfection,
High in sad carmine of sunset. Forgiveness
Is not indicated. It is superfluous. They are
What they are.

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A Prayer

© Claude McKay

'Mid the discordant noises of the day I hear thee calling;
I stumble as I fare along Earth's way; keep me from falling. Mine eyes are open but they cannot see for gloom of night:
I can no more than lift my heart to thee for inward light. The wild and fiery passion of my youth consumes my soul;
In agony I turn to thee for truth and self-control. For Passion and all the pleasures it can give will die the death;

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A Memory of June

© Claude McKay

When June comes dancing o'er the death of May,
With scarlet roses tinting her green breast,
And mating thrushes ushering in her day,
And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest,

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The Dance To Death. Act I

© Emma Lazarus


This play is dedicated, in profound veneration and respect, to the
memory of George Eliot, the illustrious writer, who did most among
the artists of our day towards elevating and ennobling the spirit
of Jewish nationality.

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Lines Written On Hearing The News Of The Death Of Napoleon

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

What! alive and so bold, O Earth?
Art thou not overbold?
What! leapest thou forth as of old
In the light of thy morning mirth,

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The Worldling

© John Newton

My barns are full, my stores increase,
And now, for many years,
Soul, eat and drink, and take thine ease,
Secure from wants and fears.

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The Pleiades At Midnight

© Johannes Carsten Hauch

We are the nightly weavers
who gather the invisible threads
from the Milky Way's outmost ring
where the end of the loom stands.

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Epitaph

© Abraham Cowley

Underneath this marble stone,

Lie two beauties joyn'd in one.

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The Skeleton In The Cupboard

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Just this one day in all the year

Let all be one, let all be dear;

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The Improvisatore

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Eliza. Ask our friend, the Improvisatore ; here he comes. Kate has a favour
to ask of you, Sir ; it is that you will repeat the ballad [Believe me if
all those endearing young charms.--EHC's ? note] that Mr. ____ sang so
sweetly.

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A Voice On The Wind

© Madison Julius Cawein

I

She walks with the wind on the windy height

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The Lost Battle

© Alfred Noyes

It is not over yet-the fight
Where those immortal dreamers failed.
They stormed the citadels of night,
And the night praised them-and prevailed.

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In Praise of Mandragora

© Muriel Stuart

O, MANDRAGORA, many sing in praise
 Of life, and death, and immortality,-
Of passion, that goes famished all her days,-
 Of Faith, or fantasy;
Thou, all unpraised, unsung, I make this rhyme to thee.

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Beauty. Part II

© Henry James Pye

Of all that Nature's rural prospects yield,

  The chrystal fountain and the flow'ry field,

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Part of the Dialogue Between Hector and Andromache

© Samuel Johnson

She ceas'd; then godlike Hector answer'd kind -

(His various plumage sporting in the wind)

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Epitaph On Two Young Men Of The Name Of Leitch, Who Were Drowned In Crossing The River Southesk, 175

© James Beattie

O thou! whose steps in sacred reverence tread

These lone dominions of the silent dead;

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Ballad

© Eustache Deschamps

Here is no flower, no violet e'er so sweet,
Nor tree, nor brier, whatever charms they show, Beauty nor worth where all perfections meet,
No man, nor woman, though her fate bestow
Bright locks, fair skin, cheeks that like roses glow,
Or wise or foolish nought by nature made,
Which length of time shall age not, and degrade, But the fierce hunter death shall hold in chase, And which, when old, the world will not upbraid: Old age ends all, in youth alone is grace.

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Human Life

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

If dead, we cease to be ; if total gloom
Swallow up life's brief flash for aye, we fare
As summer-gusts, of sudden birth and doom,
Whose sound and motion not alone declare,