Death poems
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A Sweet Lullaby
© Nicholas Breton
Come, little babe; come, silly soul,
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,
Born, as I doubt, to all our dole
And to thyself unhappy chief:
Sing lullaby, and lap it warm,
Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.
The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
© George Crabbe
drown'd.
"Is this a landsman's love? Be certain then,
"We part for ever!"--and they cried, "Amen!"
His words were truth's:- Some forty summers
A Contemplation upon Flowers
© Henry King
BRAVE flowers-that I could gallant it like you,
And be as little vain!
You come abroad, and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again.
You are not proud: you know your birth:
For your embroider'd garments are from earth.
The Missionary - Canto Fourth
© William Lisle Bowles
Earth upon the billet heap;
So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!
The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim,
Accursed be his nation and his name!
Tears, Idle Tears
© Alfred Tennyson
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
An Athenian Reverie
© Archibald Lampman
How the returning days, one after one,
Came ever in their rhythmic round, unchanged,
Hellenistics
© Robinson Jeffers
I look at the Greek-derived design that nourished my infancy
this Wedgwood copy of the Portland vase:
Someone had given it to my father my eyes at five years old
used to devour it by the hour.
The Cup Of Comus
© Madison Julius Cawein
PROEM
THE Nights of song and story,
With breath of frost and rain,
Whose locks are wild and hoary,
To The Lacedemonians
© Allen Tate
Go you tell them
That we their servants, well-trained, gray-coated
And haired (both foot and horse) or in
The grave, them obey . . . obey them,
What commands?
III: To Sir Robert Wroth
© Benjamin Jonson
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth,
Whether by choyce, or fate, or both!
Monody On The Death Of Dr. Warton
© William Lisle Bowles
Oh! I should ill thy generous cares requite
Thou who didst first inspire my timid Muse,
Song of the Sannyasin
© Swami Vivekananda
There is but OneThe FreeThe KnowerSelf!
Without a name, without a form or stain.
In Him is Maya dreaming all this dream.
The witness, He appears as nature, soul.
Know thou art That, Sannyasin bold! Say
"Om Tat Sat, Om!"
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 01 - Summer
© Kalidasa
"Oh, dear, this utterly sweltering season of the highly rampant sun is drawing nigh, and it will always be good enough to go on taking daytime baths, as the lakes and rivers will still be with plenteous waters, and at the end of the day, nightfall will be pleasant with fascinating moon, and in such nights Love-god can somehow be almost mollified…[who tortured us in the previous vernal season… but now without His sweltering us, we can happily enjoy the nights devouring cool soft drinks and dancing and merrymaking in outfields…]
"Oh, beloved one, somewhere the moon shoved the blackish columns of night aside, somewhere else the palace-chambers with water [showering, sprinkling and splashing] machines are highly exciting, and else where the matrices of gems, [like coolant pearls and moon-stone, etc.,] are there, and even the pure sandalwood is liquefied [besides other coolant scents,] thus this season gets an adoration from all the people…
"The beloved ones will enjoy the summer's clear late nights while they are atop the rooftops of buildings that are delightful and fragranced well, while they savour the passion intensifiers like strong drinks and while the ladylove's face suspires the bouquets of those drinks together with melodious instrumental and vocal music…
"The women are ameliorating the heat of their lovers with their chicly silken coolant fineries gliding onto their rotund fundaments, for they are knotted loosely, and on those silks glissading are their golden cinctures with their dangling tassels that are unfastened on and off, and with their buxom bosoms that are bedaubed with sandal-paste and semi-covered with pearly strings and golden lavalieres, and with their locks of hair that are sliding onto their faces, which locks are fragrant with bath-time emulsions, which are just applied before their oil bath…
Love Sonnet XXIX
© Zora Bernice May Cross
O Love
Love
Love
Dearer than God to me.
Earth of the earth are we and light of light.
God-born, God-breathing, all our scented souls
In Death will glow, gladdening eternity.
So give me love
all love
this perfect night
As round our naked limbs its full fire rolls.
Burning Leaves in Spring
© Christopher Morley
WHEN withered leaves are lost in flame
Their eddying gosts, a thin blue haze,
Blow through the thickets whence they came
On amberlucent autumn days.
Behind The Arras
© Bliss William Carman
I hardly know which room I care for best;
This fronting west,
With the strange hills in view,
Where the great sun goes,where I may go too,
When my lease is through,
A Short Poem Written At The Moment When A Rising River Looked Like A Rolling Ocean
© Du Fu
I was stubborn by nature and addicted to perfect lines,
fought to the death to find words that startle.
Now in old age my poems flow out freely, the way
flowers and birds forget deep sorrow in spring.
His Ally
© William Rose Benet
He fought for his soul, and the stubborn fighting
Tried hard his strength.
