Death poems
/ page 87 of 560 /
Porphyrion
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Yet into vacancy the troubled heart
Brings its own fullness: and Porphyrion found
The void a prison, and in the silence chains.
To Cardinal Richelieu. (From Malherbe)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thou mighty Prince of Church and State,
Richelieu! until the hour of death,
The Wife Of Flanders
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Low and brown barns, thatched and repatched and tattered,
Where I had seven sons until to-day,
A little hill of hay your spur has scattered. . . .
This is not Paris. You have lost your way.
The After-Echo
© Henry Van Dyke
How long the echoes love to play
Around the shore of silence, as a wave
The Conquerors Grave
© William Cullen Bryant
WITHIN this lowly grave a Conqueror lies,
And yet the monument proclaims it not,
The Fool Of The World: A Morality
© Arthur Symons
THE MAN. THE WORM.
DEATH, as the Fool, YOUTH.
THE SPADE. MIDDLE AGE.
THE COFFIN. OLD AGE.
The Warrior's Return
© Amelia Opie
Sir Walter returned from the far Holy Land,
And a blood-tinctured falchion he bore;
But such precious blood as now darkened his sword
Had never distained it before.
To Clarissa
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Clarissa, when you passed me by
With scornful lip and haughty eye,
What The Wind Said
© James Whitcomb Riley
'I muse to-day, in a listless way,
In the gleam of a summer land;
I close my eyes as a lover may
At the touch of his sweetheart's hand,
And I hear these things in the whisperings
Of the zephyrs round me fanned':--
Marmion: Canto V. - The Court
© Sir Walter Scott
Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone;
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
To A Friend Writing On Cabaret Dancers
© Ezra Pound
Good Hedgethorn', for we'll anglicize your name
Until the last slut's hanged and the last pig disembowelled,
Seeing your wife is charming and your child
Sings in the open meadow at least the kodak says so
The Old Apple-Tree
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THERE's a memory keeps a-runnin'
Through my weary head to-night,
The Turning-Point
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
AT length I sickened, standing in the sun
Truthful and for the Truth, whose only fees
He Was Acquainted With Grief
© Jones Very
I cannot tell the sorrows that I feel
By the night's darkness, by the prison's gloom;
Sonnets Of The Blood III
© Allen Tate
Then, brother, you would never think me vain
Or rude, if I should mention dignity;
Les Phares (The Beacons)
© Charles Baudelaire
Rubens, fleuve d'oubli, jardin de la paresse,
Oreiller de chair fraîche où l'on ne peut aimer,
Mais où la vie afflue et s'agite sans cesse,
Comme l'air dans le ciel et la mer dans la mer;
Uriconium An Ode
© Wilfred Owen
It lieth low near merry England's heart
Like a long-buried sin; and Englishmen
The Forlorn Hope
© Henry King
How long vain Hope do'st thou my joys suspend?
Say! must my expectation know no end!
Thou wast more kind unto the wandring Greek
Who did ten years his Wife and Country seek:
An Ode - Inscribed To The Memory Of The Hon. Colonel George Villiers
© Matthew Prior
For restless Proserpine for ever treads
In paths unseen, o'er our devoted heads,
And on the spacious land and liquid main
Spreads slow disease, or darts afflictive pain:
Variety of deaths confirms her endless reign.
Glenfinlas; or, Lord Ronald's Coronach
© Sir Walter Scott
"O hone a rie'! O hone a rie!"
The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
And fall'n Glenartney's stateliest tree;
We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more!" -
