Life poems

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Written On The Day Of My Aunt's Funeral

© Charles Lamb

Thou too art dead, ---! very kind

Hast thou been to me in my childish days,

Death of Ben Hall

© Anonymous

Come all Australia's sons to me -
A hero has been slain
And cowardly butchered in his sleep
Upon the Lachlan Plain.

Dies Irae.

© Robert Crawford

The last great Day it may be near,
Or Man may pass ere it comes here.
There may be nothing but weeds and flowers
Over the Earth in her dying hours;

Elegy for an Old Boxer by James McKean: American Life in Poetry #80 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2

© Ted Kooser

One of poetry's traditional public services is the presentation of elegies in honor of the dead. Here James McKean remembers a colorful friend and neighbor.

These Little Ones

© Edith Nesbit

"What of the garden I gave?"

God said to me;

Ascension

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

I have been down in the darkest water-

Deep, deep down where no light could pierce;

Commercial

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Gross, with protruding ears,
Sleek hair, brisk glance, fleshy and yet alert,
Red, full, and satisfied,
Cased in obtuseness confident not to be hurt,

Foreshadowings

© Henry Kendall

FIFTEEN miles and then the harbour! Here we cannot choose but stand,

Faces thrust towards the day-break, listening for our native land!

King Arthur's Death

© Thomas Percy

On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne,
This sore battayle was doom'd to bee,
Where manye a knighte cry'd, Well-awaye!
Alacke, it was the more pittìe.

The Dunciad: Book I.

© Alexander Pope

The Mighty Mother, and her son who brings

The Smithfield muses to the ear of kings,

Interlude: Songs Out Of Sorrow

© Sara Teasdale

This is the spot where I will lie
When life has had enough of me,
These are the grasses that will blow
Above me like a living sea.

An heroic address to [Oxford], concerning the combined utility and dignity of military affairs and o

In thy breast is noble blood, Courage animates thy brow, Mars lives in thy tongue,
Minerva strengthen thy right hand, Bellona reigns in thy body, within thee burns the fire of Mars.
Thine eyes flash fire, thy countenance shakes a spear;
who would not swear that Achilles had come to life again?

To K.B.

© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

You're here again - and of a sudden
A warmth long gone floods my dead heart,
And all I thought forgot, unbidden
Returns, of me becomes a part.

Mrs. Effingham's Swan Song

© Muriel Stuart

I am growing old: I have kept youth too long,

But I dare not let them know it now.

Griggsby's Station

Pap's got his patent-right, and rich is all creation;
But where's the peace and comfort that we all had before?
Le's go a-visitin' back to Griggsby's Station--
Back where we ust to be so happy and so pore!

Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XII

He slept as only under the free heaven
It is given to sleep, a slumber shadowless
As the broad river to whose banks at even
That spirit comes which brings forgetfulness,

The Sixth Olympic Ode Of Pindar

A sudden thought I raptur'd feel,
Which, as the whetstone points the steel,
Brightens my sense, and bids me warbling raise
To the soft-breathing flute, the kindred notes of praise.

A Paraphrase On The Latter Part Of The Sixth Chapter Of St Matthew

When my breast labours with oppressive care,

And o'er my cheek descends the falling tear:

Poetry

Grey with all honours of age! but fresh-featured and ruddy
As dawn when the drowsy farm-yard has thrice heard Chaunticlere.
Tender to tearfulness-childlike, and manly, and motherly;
Here beats true English blood richest joyance on sweet English ground.