Death poems
/ page 511 of 560 /
Nyctivoe (extract)
© Dimitris Lyacos
NARRATOR
Accounting that He was able to raise them up
even from the dead
Talking To My Father Whose Ashes Sit In A Closet And Listen
© Lisa Zaran
Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
To Emma
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Far away, where darkness reigneth,
All my dreams of bliss are flown;
Yet with love my gaze remaineth
Fixed on one fair star alone.
But, alas! that star so bright
Sheds no lustre save by night.
The Veiled Statue At Sais
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
A youth, impelled by a burning thirst for knowledge
To roam to Sais, in fair Egypt's land,
The priesthood's secret learning to explore,
Had passed through many a grade with eager haste,
The Triumph Of Love
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
By love are blest the gods on high,
Frail man becomes a deity
When love to him is given;
'Tis love that makes the heavens shine
With hues more radiant, more divine,
And turns dull earth to heaven!
The Pilgrim
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Youth's gay springtime scarcely knowing
Went I forth the world to roam--
And the dance of youth, the glowing,
Left I in my father's home,
The Lay Of The Mountain
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
To the solemn abyss leads the terrible path,
The life and death winding dizzy between;
In thy desolate way, grim with menace and wrath,
To daunt thee the spectres of giants are seen;
That thou wake not the wild one, all silently tread--
Let thy lip breathe no breath in the pathway of dread!
The Lay Of The Bell
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,
Awaits the mould of baked clay.
Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth
The bell that shall be born to-day!
The Infanticide
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Francis, O Francis! league on league shall chase thee
The shadows hurrying grimly on thy flight--
Still with their icy arms they shall embrace thee,
And mutter thunder in thy dream's delight!
The Ideal And The Actual Life
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Forever fair, forever calm and bright,
Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light,
For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice--
Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb,
The Hostage
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
The tyrant Dionys to seek,
Stern Moerus with his poniard crept;
The watchful guard upon him swept;
The grim king marked his changeless cheek:
The Gods Of Greece
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Ye in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world--a world how lovely then!--
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
The Genius With The Inverted Torch
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Lovely he looks, 'tis true, with the light of his torch now extinguished;
But remember that death is not aesthetic, my friends!
The Fight With The Dragon
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Why run the crowd? What means the throng
That rushes fast the streets along?
Can Rhodes a prey to flames, then, be?
In crowds they gather hastily,
The Driver
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"What knight or what vassal will be so bold
As to plunge in the gulf below?
See! I hurl in its depths a goblet of gold,
Already the waters over it flow.
The man who can bring back the goblet to me,
May keep it henceforward,--his own it shall be."
The Complaint Of Ceres
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Does pleasant spring return once more?
Does earth her happy youth regain?
Sweet suns green hills are shining o'er;
Soft brooklets burst their icy chain:
The Celebrated Woman - An Epistle By A Married Man
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
If Faust had really any hand
In printing, I can understand
The fate which legends more than hint;--
The devil take all hands that print!
The Battle
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Heavy and solemn,
A cloudy column,
Through the green plain they marching came!
Measure less spread, like a table dread,
The Assignation
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Hark! through the alley hear I now
A footfall? Comes the maiden?
No,--'twas the fruit slid from the bough,
With its own richness laden!
The Artists
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
Upon the waning century standest thou,
In proud and noble manhood's prime,
With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
