Death poems
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A Voice From The West
© Alfred Austin
What is the voice I hear
On the wind of the Western Sea?
Sentinel, listen from out Cape Clear
And say what the voice may be.
``'Tis a proud, free people calling loud to a people proud and free.
Tasso Dying
© Konstantin Nikolaevich Batiushkov
But it's too late! I stand before the fatal borne.
To wild applause I won't step on Capitoline,
And glory's laurels on my feeble head
Won't sweeten the bard's frightful lot.
Musette
© Henri Murger
Yesterday, watching the swallows' flight
That bring the spring and the season fair,
The TigerLily
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What wouldst thou with me? By what spell
My spirit allure, absorb, compel?
The last long beam that thou didst drink
Is buried now on evening's brink.
The Angels of Buena Vista
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away,
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array,
Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they near?
Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.
Father Death Blues
© Allen Ginsberg
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
The Sower
© Mathilde Blind
The winds had hushed at last as by command;
The quiet sky above,
With its grey clouds spread oer the fallow land,
Sat brooding like a dove.
The Earth-Spirit
© William Ellery Channing
Then spoke the Spirit of the Earth,
Her gentle voice like a soft water's song--
Monody
© Herman Melville
To have known him, to have loved him
After loneness long;
And then to be estranged in life,
And neither in the wrong;
And now for death to set his seal--
Ease me, a little ease, my song!
Witchery Knows!
© William Henry Ogilvie
Witchery knows what it means
When the oats and the barley, the wheat and the beans,
New Year
© Julia A Moore
Farewell to the old year forever,
And all its sorrows and care
We'll bury in our hearts, and endeavor
New troubles and trials to bear.
Weariness
© Arthur Symons
I
There are grey hours when I drink of indifference; all things fade
Into the grey of a twilight that covers my soul with its sky;
Scarcely I know that this shade is the world, or this burden is I;
And life, and art, and love, and death, are the shades of a shade.
Don Juan: Canto The Ninth
© George Gordon Byron
Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton'--for Fame
Sounds the heroic syllables both ways;
The Sydney International Exhibition
© Henry Kendall
Now, while Orion, flaming south, doth set
A shining foot on hills of wind and wet
