Death poems
/ page 65 of 560 /The Legacy
© Henry King
My dearest Love! when thou and I must part,
And th' icy hand of death shall seize that heart
Which is all thine; within some spacious will
Ile leave no blanks for Legacies to fill:
From House To House
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
The first was like a dream through summer heat,
The second like a tedious numbing swoon,
While the half-frozen pulses lagged to beat
Beneath a winter moon.
The Image Of Death
© Lord Alfred Douglas
I carved an image coloured like the night,
Winged with huge wings, stern-browed and menacing,
Mart. Epi. XLIII. Lib. I.
© Richard Lovelace
Conjugis audisset fatum cum Portia Bruti,
Et substracta sibi quaereret arma dolor,
Nondum scitis, ait, mortem non posse negari,
Credideram satis hoc vos docuisse patrem.
Dixit, et ardentes avido bibit ore favillas.
I nunc, et ferrum turba molesta nega.
The Last Song of Sappho
© Giacomo Leopardi
Thou tranquil night, and thou, O gentle ray
Of the declining moon; and thou, that o'er
The Wind And The Moon
© George MacDonald
Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out!
You stare
In the air
As if crying Beware,
Always looking what I am about:
I hate to be watched; I will blow you out!"
The Garden
© James Shirley
This Garden does not take my eyes,
Though here you show how art of men
Can purchase Nature at a price
Would stock old Paradise again.
To The Apennines
© William Cullen Bryant
Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines!
In the soft light of these serenest skies;
From the broad highland region, black with pines,
Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise,
Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold
In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
The Aurora On The Clyde
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
AH me, how heavily the night comes down,
Heavily, heavily:
Fade the curved shores, the blue hills' serried throng,
The darkening waves we oared in light and song:
The Letter
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
I held his letter in my hand,
And even while I read
The lightning flashed across the land
The word that he was dead.
The Emigrants Monument At Point St. Charles
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
A kindly thought, a generous deed,
Ye gallant sons of toil!
No nobler trophy could ye raise
On your adopted soil
Than this monument to your kindred dead,
Who sleep beneath in their cold, dark bed.
The Song Of Theodolinda
© George Meredith
Mark the skeleton of fire
Lightening from its thunder-roof:
So comes this that saw expire
Him we love, for our behoof!
Red of heat, O white of heat,
This from off the Cross we greet.
Sick Room
© Langston Hughes
How quiet
It is in this sick room
Where on the bed
A silent woman lies between two lovers-
Life and Death,
And all three covered with a sheet of pain.
De Profundis
© George MacDonald
When I am dead unto myself, and let,
O Father, thee live on in me,
Contented to do nought but pay my debt,
And leave the house to thee,
A Meeting
© Edith Wharton
On a sheer peak of joy we meet;
Below us hums the abyss;
Death either way allures our feet
If we take one step amiss.
Evangeline: Part The Second. II.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
IT was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful River,
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash,
Walter And Jane: Or, The Poor Blacksmith
© Robert Bloomfield
'We brav'd Life's storm together; while that Drone,
'Your poor old Uncle, WALTER, liv'd alone.
'He died the other day: when round his bed
'No tender soothing tear Affection shed--
'Affection! 'twas a plant he never knew;--
'Why should he feast on fruits he never grew?'