Death poems
/ page 61 of 560 /
Ode II
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
While wounded men leaped on their feet to hear,
And dying men upraised their eyes to see
How on the conflict's lowering canopy,
Dawned the first rainbow hues of victory!
Hyperion. Book II
© John Keats
Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wings
Hyperion slid into the rustled air,
Safi
© Henry Kendall
Was it light, was it shadow he followed,
That he swept through those desperate tracts,
With his hair beating back on his shoulders
Like the tops of the wind-hackled flax?
Wamberal
© Henry Kendall
Just a shell, to which the seaweed glittering yet with greenness clings,
Like the song that once I loved so, softly of the old time sings -
Songs with Preludes: Lamentation
© Jean Ingelow
I read upon that book,
Which down the golden gulf doth let us look
A Captive Throstle
© Alfred Austin
Poor little mite with mottled breast,
Half-fledged, and fallen from the nest,
The Boy Robert
© Richard Monckton Milnes
The stripling Robert, good and brave,
Holds in his hand a bare--drawn glaive,
And on the altar of the Lord,
He lays it with this earnest word:
Ad Finem
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the white throat of useless passion
That scorched my soul with its burning breath
Times Defence
© Alfred Austin
``Why am I deemed an enemy of men
Who would beyond Life's limit life prolong?
The Hereafter
© James Whitcomb Riley
Hereafter! O we need not waste
Our smiles or tears, whatever befall:
Roses Blushing Red And White
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Roses blushing red and white,
For delight;
A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day, Being the Shortest Day
© John Donne
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
In Verona.
© Robert Crawford
Juliet will never rise
In her passion's paradise;
Dust is in her ears and eyes.
And time too, as all men know,
The Wanderers Return
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
An old heart's mourning is a hideous thing,
And weeds upon an aged weeper cling
Like night upon a grave. The city there,
Gaunt as a woman who has once been fair,
Nobility Of Goodness
© Charles Kingsley
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Enceladus. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The Second)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Under Mount Etna he lies,
It is slumber, it is not death;
For he struggles at times to arise,
And above him the lurid skies
Are hot with his fiery breath.
Sonnett - VI
© James Russell Lowell
Great Truths are portions of the soul of man;
Great souls are portions of Eternity;
Hannibal's Oath
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
AND the night was dark and calm,
There was not a breath of air,
The leaves of the grove were still,
As the presence of death were there;
