Death poems
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Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
My childhood, then, had passed a mystery
Shrouded by death, my boyhood a shut thing.
The passion of my soul as it grew free
With growing youth, a bird with broken wing,
The Captivity
© Oliver Goldsmith
FIRST PROPHET.
AIR.
Our God is all we boast below,
To him we turn our eyes;
And every added weight of woe
Shall make our homage rise.
Fears In Solitude
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
[Image][Image][Image][Image][Image] May my fears,
My filial fears, be vain ! and may the vaunts
And menace of the vengeful enemy
Pass like the gust, that roared and died away
In the distant tree : which heard, and only heard
In this low dell, bowed not the delicate grass.
The First Part: Sonnet 12 - Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest,
© William Henry Drummond
Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest,
And your tumultuous broils a while appease;
Birth And Death.
© Robert Crawford
I who have known thee, Birth, must know Death too:
As old, old men their children's children fold
In their gaunt arms, and though their blood be cold
Feel their own youth burn in them as they view
Aftermath
© Sylvia Plath
Mother Medea in a green smock
Moves humbly as any housewife through
Her ruined apartments, taking stock
Of charred shoes, the sodden upholstery:
Cheated of the pyre and the rack,
The crowd sucks her last tear and turns away.
From Generation to Generation
© William Dean Howells
INNOCENT spirits, bright, immaculate ghosts!
Why throng your heavenly hosts,
As eager for their birth
In this sad home of death, this sorrow-haunted earth?
Pensive On Her Dead Gazing, I Heard The Mother Of All
© Walt Whitman
PENSIVE, on her dead gazing, I heard the Mother of All,
Desperate, on the torn bodies, on the forms covering the battle-
To-morrow
© Ada Cambridge
The lighthouse shines across the sea;
The homing fieldfares sing for glee:
Dream Song 120: Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
© John Berryman
Foes I sniff, when I have less to shout
or murmur. Pals alone enormous sounds
downward & up bring real.
Loss, deaths, terror. Over & out,
beloved: thanks for cabbage on my wounds:
I'll feed you how I feel:â
Epilogue:XXI 'Tristram of Lyonesse'
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
OUR MOTHER, which wast twice, as history saith,
Found first among the nations: once, when she
The Two Peacocks of Bedfont
© Thomas Hood
I
Alas! That breathing Vanity should go
Where Pride is buried,like its very ghost,
Uprisen from the naked bones below,
Dream Song 86: Op. posth. no. 9
© John Berryman
The conclusion is growing . . . I feel sure, my lord,
this august court will entertain the plea
Not Guilty by reason of death.
I can say no more except that for the record
I add that all the crimes since all the times he
died will be due to the breath
Dream Song 81: Op. posth. no. 4
© John Berryman
He loom' so cagey he say 'Leema beans'
and measured his intake to the atmosphere
of that fairly stable country.
His ear hurt. Left. The rock-cliffs, a mite sheer
at his age, in these places.
Scrubbing out his fear,â
Los Tres Reyes Magos (With English Translation)
© Rubén Dario
-O soy Gaspar. Aquí traigo el incienso.
Vengo a decir: La vida es pura y bella.
Existe Dios. El amor es inmenso.
Todo lo sé por la divina Estrella!
Dream Song 42: O journeyer, deaf in the mould, insane
© John Berryman
O journeyer, deaf in the mould, insane
with violent travel & death: consider me
in my cast, your first son.
Would you were I by now another one,
witted, legged? I see you before me plain
(I am skilled: I hear, I see)â
Dream Song 88: Op. posth. no. 11
© John Berryman
In slack times visit I the violent dead
and pick their awful brains. Most seem to feel
nothing is secret more
to my disdain I find, when we who fled
cherish the knowings of both worlds, conceal
more, beat on the floor,
Answer To A Beautiful Poem, Entitled 'The Common Lot'
© George Gordon Byron
MONTGOMERY! true, the common lot
Of mortals lies in Lethe's wave;
Yet some shall never be forgot,
Some shall exist beyond the grave.
