Death poems
/ page 521 of 560 /
A Midnight Meditation
© George William Russell
HOW often have I said,
We may not grieve for the immortal dead.
And now, poor blenchèd heart,
Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart.
Transformations
© George William Russell
WHAT miracle was it that made this grey Rathgar
Seem holy earth, a leaping-place from star to star?
I know I strode along grey streets disconsolate,
Seeing nowhere a glimmer of the Glittering Gate,
Duality
© George William Russell
WHO gave thee such a ruby flaming heart
And such a pure cold spirit? Side by side
I know these must eternally abide
In intimate war, and each to each impart
The Free
© George William Russell
THEY bathed in the fire-flooded fountains:
Life girdled them round and about:
They slept in the clefts of the mountains:
The stars called them forth with a shout.
The Tide of Sorrow
© George William Russell
ON the twilight-burnished hills I lie and long and gaze
Where below the grey-lipped sands drink in the flowing tides,
Drink, and fade and disappear: interpreting their ways
A seer in my heart abides.
On Behalf of Some Irishmen not Followers of Tradition
© George William Russell
THEY call us aliens, we are told,
Because our wayward visions stray
From that dim banner they unfold,
The dreams of worn-out yesterday.
Recall
© George William Russell
WHAT call may draw thee back again,
Lost dove, what art, what charm may please?
The tender touch, the kiss, are vain,
For thou wert lured away by these.
Janus
© George William Russell
IMAGE of beauty, when I gaze on thee,
Trembling I waken to a mystery,
How through one door we go to life or death
By spirit kindled or the sensual breath.
The Child of Destiny
© George William Russell
THIS is the hero-heart of the enchanted isle,
Whom now the twilight children tenderly enfold,
Pat with their pearly palms and crown with elfin gold,
While in the mountains breast his brothers watch and smile.
A Womans Voice
© George William Russell
HIS head within my bosom lay,
But yet his spirit slipped not through:
I only felt the burning clay
That withered for the cooling dew.
The Master Singer
© George William Russell
A LAUGHTER in the diamond air, a music in the trembling grass;
And one by one the words of light as joydrops through my being pass:
I am the sunlight in the heart, the silver moon-glow in the mind;
My laughter runs and ripples through the wavy tresses of the wind.
The Christ-sword
© George William Russell
THE WHILE my mad brain whirled around
She only looked with eyes elate
Immortal love at me. I found
How deep the glance of love can wound,
How cruel pity is to hate.
The Mid-World
© George William Russell
THIS is the red, red region
Your heart must journey through:
Your pains will here be legion
And joy be death for you.
Faith
© George William Russell
HERE where the loves of others close
The vision of my heart begins.
The wisdom that within us grows
Is absolution for our sins.
A Vision of Beauty
© George William Russell
WHERE we sat at dawn together, while the star-rich heavens shifted,
We were weaving dreams in silence, suddenly the veil was lifted.
By a hand of fire awakened, in a moment caught and led
Upward to the heaven of heavensthrough the star-mists overhead
Love
© George William Russell
ERE I lose myself in the vastness and drowse myself with the peace,
While I gaze on the light and the beauty afar from the dim homes of men,
May I still feel the heart-pang and pity, love-ties that I would not release;
May the voices of sorrow appealing call me back to their succour again.
Endurance
© George William Russell
HE bent above: so still her breath
What air she breathed he could not say,
Whether in worlds of life or death:
So softly ebbed away, away,
The Great Breath
© George William Russell
ITS edges foamed with amethyst and rose,
Withers once more the old blue flower of day:
There where the ether like a diamond glows
Its petals fade away.
Immortality
© George William Russell
WE must pass like smoke or live within the spirits fire;
For we can no more than smoke unto the flame return
If our thought has changed to dream, our will unto desire,
As smoke we vanish though the fire may burn.
The Message
© George William Russell
DO you not feel the white glow in your breast, my bird?
That is the flame of love I send to you from afar:
Not a wafted kiss, hardly a whispered word,
But love itself that flies as a white-winged star.
