Epitaph On Elizabeth

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1. On Elizabeth L. H Epitaphs i WOULDST thou hear what Man can say In a little? Reader, stay. Underneath this stone doth lie As much Beauty as could die: Which in life did harbour give To more Virtue than doth live. If at all she had a fault, Leave it buried in this vault. One name was Elizabeth, The […]...
2. Elizabeth Gone 1. You lay in the nest of your real death, Beyond the print of my nervous fingers Where they touched your moving head; Your old skin puckering, your lungs’ breath Grown baby short as you looked up last At my face swinging over the human bed, And somewhere you cried, let me go let me […]...
3. Elizabeth Barrett Browning Elizabeth Barrett Browning Sat gossiping with Robert. (She was really a raving beauty in her day. With Mary Pickford curls in clouds and whirls.) She was trying to think of something nice to say, So she pointed to a page by her fellow star and sage, And said: “I wish that I could write that […]...
4. An Epitaph On A Child Of Queen Elizabeth's Chapel Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death’s self is sorry. ‘Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature. Years he numbered scarce thirteen When fates turned cruel, Yet three […]...
5. Elizabeth Elizabeth, it surely is most fit [Logic and common usage so commanding] In thy own book that first thy name be writ, Zeno and other sages notwithstanding; And I have other reasons for so doing Besides my innate love of contradiction; Each poet – if a poet – in pursuing The muses thro’ their bowers […]...
6. Elizabeth told Essex Elizabeth told Essex That she could not forgive The clemency of Deity However might survive That secondary succor We trust that she partook When suing like her Essex For a reprieving Look...
7. Epitaph The first time I died, I walked my ways; I followed the file of limping days. I held me tall, with my head flung up, But I dared not look on the new moon’s cup. I dared not look on the sweet young rain, And between my ribs was a gleaming pain. The next time […]...
8. NO FAULT IN WOMEN No fault in women, to refuse The offer which they most would chuse. No fault: in women, to confess How tedious they are in their dress; No fault in women, to lay on The tincture of vermilion; And there to give the cheek a dye Of white, where Nature doth deny. No fault in women, […]...
9. Elizabeth Childers Dust of my dust, And dust with my dust, O, child who died as you entered the world, Dead with my death! Not knowing breath, though you tried so hard, With a heart that beat when you lived with me, And stopped when you left me for Life. It is well, my child. For you […]...
10. The Survivor Once more he sees his companions’ faces Livid in the first faint light, Gray with cement dust, Nebulous in the mist, Tinged with death in their uneasy sleep. At night, under the heavy burden Of their dreams, their jaws move, Chewing a non-existant turnip. ‘Stand back, leave me alone, submerged people, Go away. I haven’t […]...
11. NIGHT SONG WHEN on thy pillow lying, Half listen, I implore, And at my lute’s soft sighing, Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? For at my lute’s soft sighing The stars their blessings pour On feelings never-dying; Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? Those feelings never-dying My spirit aid to soar From earthly conflicts trying; Sleep on! […]...
12. Epitaph for Maria Wentworth And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely-temper’d clay was made So fine that it the guest betray’d. Else the soul grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sin, And so was hatch’d a cherubin. In height, it soar’d to God above; In depth, it did to knowledge move, And spread […]...
13. An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife TO these whom death again did wed This grave ‘s the second marriage-bed. For though the hand of Fate could force ‘Twixt soul and body a divorce, It could not sever man and wife, Because they both lived but one life. Peace, good reader, do not weep; Peace, the lovers are asleep. They, sweet turtles, […]...
14. An Epitaph Interr’d beneath this marble stone, Lie saunt’ring Jack and idle Joan. While rolling threescore years and one Did round this globe their courses run; If human things went ill or well; If changing empires rose or fell; The morning passed, the evening came, And found this couple still the same. They walk’d and eat, good […]...
15. Holy Sonnet I: Tho Has Made Me Tho has made me, and shall thy work decay? Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste; I run to death, and death meets me as fast, And all my pleasures are like yesterday. I dare not move my dim eyes any way, Despair behind, and death before doth cast Such terror, and my […]...
16. Epitaph in a Church-Yard in Charleston, South Carolina GEORGE AUGUSTUS CLOUGH A NATIVE OF LIVERPOOL, DIED SUDDENLY OF “STRANGER’S FEVER” NOV’R 5th 1843 AGED 22 He died of “Stranger’s Fever” when his youth Had scarcely melted into manhood, so The chiselled legend runs; a brother’s woe Laid bare for epitaph. The savage ruth Of a sunny, bright, but alien land, uncouth With cruel […]...
17. In Honour of that High and Mighty Princess, Queen ELIZABETH Proem. 1.1 Although great Queen, thou now in silence lie, 1.2 Yet thy loud Herald Fame, doth to the sky 1.3 Thy wondrous worth proclaim, in every clime, 1.4 And so has vow’d, whilst there is world or time. 1.5 So great’s thy glory, and thine excellence, 1.6 The sound thereof raps every human sense […]...
18. Sonnet XX: Fly, Fly, My Friends Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound; fly! See there that boy, that murthering boy I say, Who like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie, Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey. So tyrant he no fitter place could spy, Nor so fair level in so secret stay, As that sweet […]...
19. AN EPITAPH UPON A CHILD Virgins promised when I died, That they would each primrose-tide Duly, morn and evening, come, And with flowers dress my tomb. Having promised, pay your debts Maids, and here strew violets....
20. Astrophel and Stella: XX Fly, fly, my friends, I have my death wound, fly! See there that boy, that murd’ring boy, I say, Who, like a thief, hid in dark bush doth lie Till bloody bullet get him wrongful prey. So tyrant he no fitter place could spy, Nor so fair level in so secret stay, As that sweet […]...
21. Epitaph on her Son H. P WHat on Earth deserves our trust? Youth and Beauty both are dust. Long we gathering are with pain, What one moment calls again. Seven years childless, marriage past, A Son, a son is born at last : So exactly lim’d and fair. Full of good Spirits, Meen, and Air, As a long life promised, Yet, […]...
22. Epitaph On The World Here lies the body of this world, Whose soul alas to hell is hurled. This golden youth long since was past, Its silver manhood went as fast, An iron age drew on at last; ‘Tis vain its character to tell, The several fates which it befell, What year it died, when ’twill arise, We only […]...
23. An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor What are thy gaines, O death, if one man ly Stretch’d in a bed of clay, whose charity Doth hereby get occasion to redeeme Thousands out of the grave: though cold hee seeme He keepes those warme that else would sue to thee, Even thee, to ease them of theyr penury. Sorrow I would, but […]...
24. Epitaph Stop, Christian passer-by : Stop, child of God, And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this sod A poet lies, or that which once seem’d he O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C. That he who many a year with toil of breath Found death in life, may here find life in death […]...
25. Sing, Sweet Harp Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me Some song of ancient days, Whose sounds, in this sad memory, Long-buried dreams shall raise; Some lay that tells of vanish’d fame, Whose light once round us shone, Of noble pride, now turn’d to shame, And hopes for ever gone. Sing, sad Harp, thus sing to me; Alike […]...
26. An Epitaph On The Marchioness Of Winchester This rich Marble doth enterr The honour’d Wife of Winchester, A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir, Besides what her vertues fair Added to her noble birth, More then she could own from Earth. Summers three times eight save one She had told, alas too soon, After so short time of breath, To house with darknes, […]...
27. Epitaph Of La Fontaine Made By Himself JOHN, as he came, so went away, Consuming capital and pay, Holding superfluous riches cheap; The trick of spending time he knew, Dividing it in portions two, For idling one, and one for sleep....
28. An Epitaph ENOUGH; and leave the rest to Fame! ‘Tis to commend her, but to name. Courtship which, living, she declined, When dead, to offer were unkind: Nor can the truest wit, or friend, Without detracting, her commend. To say she lived a virgin chaste In this age loose and all unlaced; Nor was, when vice is […]...
29. Epitaph No matter how he toil and strive The fate of every man alive With luck will be to lie alone, His empty name cut in a stone. Grim time the fairest fame will flout, But though his name be blotted out, And he forgotten with his peers, His stone may wear a year of years. […]...
30. The Singing Girl (For the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S. J.) There was a little maiden In blue and silver drest, She sang to God in Heaven And God within her breast. It flooded me with pleasure, It pierced me like a sword, When this young maiden sang: “My soul Doth magnify the Lord.” The stars sing all […]...
31. SAKONTALA WOULDST thou the blossoms of spring, as well as the fruits of The autumn, Wouldst thou what charms and delights, wouldst thou what Plenteously, feeds, Would thou include both Heaven and earth in one designation, All that is needed is done, when I Sakontala name. 1792....
32. Sonnet XXXIX O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is ‘t but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, […]...
33. Sonnet 39: O, how thy worth with manners may I sing O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring? And what is’t but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That […]...
34. Sonnet X: To Nothing Fitter To nothing fitter can I thee compare Than to the son of some rich penny-father, Who, having now brought on his end with care, Leaves to his son all he had heap’d together; This new rich novice, lavish of his chest, To one man gives, doth on another spend, Then here he riots, yet among […]...
35. Good Friday O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one star show’d thy first breath, Shall all thy death? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumn, score a grief? Or […]...
36. Night SWIFTLY walk o’er the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear Which make thee terrible and dear, Swift be thy flight! Wrap thy form in a mantle grey, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day; […]...
37. Orchard Trees, January It’s not the case, though some might wish it so Who from a window watch the blizzard blow White riot through their branches vague and stark, That they keep snug beneath their pelted bark. They take affliction in until it jells To crystal ice between their frozen cells, And each of them is inwardly a […]...
38. To Night Swiftly walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night! Out of the misty eastern cave Where, all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, Swift be thy flight! Wrap thy form in a mantle grey, Star-inwrought! Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, […]...
39. Elizabeth Catch, my Uncle Jack said And oh I caught this huge apple Red as Mrs Kelly’s bum. It’s red as Mrs Kelly’s bum, I said And Daddy roared And swung me on his stomach with a heave. Then I hid the apple in my room Till it shrunk like a face Growing eyes and teeth […]...
40. A Cross-Road Epitaph “Am Kreuzweg wird begraben Wer selber brachte sich um.” When first the world grew dark to me I call’d on God, yet came not he. Whereon, as wearier wax’d my lot, On Love I call’d, but Love came not. When a worse evil did befall, Death, on thee only did I call....