Topic: Death

Without and Within

My coachman, in the moonlight there, Looks through the side light of the door; I hear him with his brethren swear, As I could do,—but only more. Flattening his nose against the pane, He envies me my brilliant lot, Breathes on his aching fists in vain, And dooms me to a place...

By James Russell Lowell
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22 October

Her Epitaph

The handful here, that once was Mary's earth, Held, while it breathed, so beautiful a soul, That, when she died, all recognized her birth, And had their sorrow in serene control. "Not here! not here!" to every mourner's heart The wintry wind seemed whispering round her bier; And when the tomb-door...

By Thomas William Parsons
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21 October


[Sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S. C., 1867.] Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; Though yet no marble column craves The pilgrim here to pause. In seeds of laurel in the earth The blossom...

By Henry Timrod
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18 October

The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to...

By Rupert Brooke
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08 October

“Life! I know not what thou art”

Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met I own to me's a secret yet. Life! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear— Perhaps 'twill cost...

By Anna Laetitia Barbauld
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25 September

The Deathbed

We watch'd her breathing thro' the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. But when the morn came dim and sad And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed—she had Another morn than ours. Thomas Hood...

By Thomas Hood
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24 September

A Sea Dirge

Full fathom five thy father lies: Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Hark! now I hear them,— Ding-dong, bell. William Shakespeare...

By William Shakespeare
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22 September

The Death of Lincoln

Oh, slow to smite and swift to spare, Gentle and merciful and just! Who, in the fear of God, didst bear The sword of power, a nation’s trust! In sorrow by thy bier we stand, Amid the awe that hushes all, And speak the anguish of a land That shook with horror...

By William Cullen Bryant
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15 September

To My Mother

Because I feel that, in the Heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of ‘Mother,’ Therefore by that dear name I long have called you— You who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart...

By Edgar Allan Poe
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14 September

The Wound-Dresser

3 On, on I go, (open doors of time! open hospital doors!) The crush’d head I dress (poor crazed hand tear not the bandage away), The neck of the cavalry-man with the bullet through and through I examine, Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed already the eye, yet life...

By Walt Whitman
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13 September