Death poems
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St. Augustine and Monica
© Turner Charles (Tennyson)
When Monica's young son had felt her kiss --Her weeping kiss -- for years, her sorrow flowedAt last into his wilful blood; he owedTo her his after-life of truth and bliss:And her own joy, what words, what thoughts could paint!When o'er his soul, with sweet constraining force,Came Penitence -- a fusion from remorse --And made her boy a glorious Christian saint
Sonnets. I
© Frederick Goddard Tuckerman
The starry flower, the flower-like stars that fadeAnd brighten with the daylight and the dark, --The bluet in the green I faintly mark,And glimmering crags with laurel overlaid,Even to the Lord of light, the Lamp of shade,Shine one to me, -- the least, still glorious madeAs crownèd moon, or heaven's great hierarch
A Living and Dying Prayer for the Holiest Believer in the World
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee!Let the Water and the Blood,From thy riven Side which flow'd,Be of Sin the double Cure,Cleanse me from its Guilt and Pow'r.
Sonnets from the Portuguese v
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
WHEN our two souls stand up erect and strong
Face to face silent drawing nigh and nigher
A Poem, Addressed to the Lord Privy Seal, on the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song
Sonnets from the Portuguese ii
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
UNLIKE are we unlike O princely Heart!
Unlike our uses and our destinies.
Sonnets from the Portuguese i
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I THOUGHT once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years the dear and wish'd-for years
To Cassandra
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
O Mayde more tender yet Than shy sweet buds that wakeOn rose-trees dewy wet When first the daye doth break,That from the thorny speareHalf green, half red doe peere;
The City of Dreadful Night
© James Thomson
As I came through the desert thus it was,As I came through the desert: All was black,In heaven no single star, on earth no track;A brooding hush without a stir or note,The air so thick it clotted in my throat;And thus for hours; then some enormous thingsSwooped past with savage cries and clanking wings: But I strode on austere; No hope could have no fear
How Do I Love Thee?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of Virgil's Death
© Alfred Tennyson
Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After
© Alfred Tennyson
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 56
© Alfred Tennyson
"So careful of the type?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, "A thousand types are gone:I care for nothing, all shall go.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
Battle of Brunanburh
© Alfred Tennyson
Constantinus, King of the Scots, after having sworn allegiance to Athelstan, allied himself with the Danes of Ireland under Anlaf, and invading England, was defeated by Athelstan and his brother Edmund with great slaughter at Brunanburh in the year 937
The Unceasing Round
© Taylor Edward Robeson
In centre of the canvas see this pine All stark in death, with arms in vain appeal For what it nevermore can taste or feel Of joys of earth or of the heavens divine
