Topic: Death

Threnody (Fragments)

The south-wind brings Life, sunshine, and desire, And on every mount and meadow Breathes aromatic fire, But over the dead he has no power, The lost, the lost he cannot restore, And, looking over the hills, I mourn The darling who shall not return.I see my empty house, I see my trees repair...

By Ralph Waldo Emerson
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03 January

A Brown Girl Dead

With two white roses on her breasts, White candles at head and feet, Dark Madonna of the grave she rests; Lord Death has found her sweet.Her mother pawned her wedding ring To lay her out in white; She'd be so proud she'd dance and sing to see herself tonight.Countee Cullen...

By Countee Cullen
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29 December

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows round the...

By W. H. Auden
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24 December

The Good Man in Hell

If a good man were ever housed in Hell By needful error of the qualities, Perhaps to prove the rule or shame the devil, Or speak the truth only a stranger sees,Would he, surrendering quick to obvious hate, Fill half eternity with cries and tears, Or watch beside Hell's little...

By Edwin Muir
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23 December

Reapers

Black reapers with the sound of steel on stones Are sharpening scythes. I see them place the hones In their hip-pockets as a thing that's done, And start their silent swinging, one by one. Black horses drive a mower through the weeds, And there, a field rat, startled, squealing bleeds, His...

By Jean Toomer
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21 December

In Flanders Field

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now...

By John McCrae
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18 December

An Inscription

A conqueror as provident as brave, He robbed the cradle to supply the grave. His reign laid quantities of human dust: He fell upon the just and the unjust.Ambrose Bierce...

By Ambrose Bierce
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16 December

Away

I cannot say, and I will not say That he is dead- . He is just away!With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand He has wandered into an unknown land,And left us dreaming how very fair It needs must be, since he lingers there.And you-...

By James Whitcomb Riley
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11 December

Anna Who Was Mad

Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I...

By Anne Sexton
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03 December