Lenore

Related poetry:

1. The Young that Died in Beauty If souls should only sheen so bright In heaven as in e’thly light, An’ nothen better wer the cease, How comely still, in sheape an’ feace, Would many reach thik happy pleace, – The hopevul souls that in their prime Ha’ seem’d a-took avore their time, – The young that died in beauty. But when […]...
2. Song's Eternity What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Can it noise and bustle be? Come and see. Praises sung or praises said Can it be? Wait awhile and these are dead – Sigh, sigh; Be they high or lowly bred They die. What is song’s eternity? Come and see. Melodies of earth and sky, Here they […]...
3. Walt Whitman The master-songs are ended, and the man That sang them is a name. And so is God A name; and so is love, and life, and death, And everything. But we, who are too blind To read what we have written, or what faith Has written for us, do not understand: We only blink, and […]...
4. The Bards Of Olden Time Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled, Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven, And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song? Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are wanting, […]...
5. The Heart Of The Woman O what to me the little room That was brimmed up with prayer and rest; He bade me out into the gloom, And my breast lies upon his breast. O what to me my mother’s care, The house where I was safe and warm; The shadowy blossom of my hair Will hide us from the […]...
6. The Life Beyond He wakes, who never thought to wake again, Who held the end was Death. He opens eyes Slowly, to one long livid oozing plain Closed down by the strange eyeless heavens. He lies; And waits; and once in timeless sick surmise Through the dead air heaves up an unknown hand, Like a dry branch. No […]...
7. Dirge Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now; All you loved of her lies here. Brought to earth the arrogant brow, And the withering tongue Chastened; do your weeping now. Sing whatever songs are sung, Wind whatever wreath, For a playmate perished young, For a spirit spent in death. Boys and girls […]...
8. In Harbor A young man, twenty eight years old, on a vessel from Tenos, Emes arrived at this Syrian harbor With the intention of learning the perfume trade. But during the voyage he was taken ill. And as soon As he disembarked, he died. His burial, the poorest, Took place here. A few hours before he died, […]...
9. Lisette and Eileen “When he was here alive, Eileen, There was a word you might have said; So never mind what I have been, Or anything,-for you are dead. “And after this when I am there Where he is, you’ll be dying still. Your eyes are dead, and your black hair,- The rest of you be what it […]...
10. In Memory I Serene and beautiful and very wise, Most erudite in curious Grecian lore, You lay and read your learned books, and bore A weight of unshed tears and silent sighs. The song within your heart could never rise Until love bade it spread its wings and soar. Nor could you look on Beauty’s face before […]...
11. Sonnet 01 – I thought once how Theocritus had sung I thought once how Theocritus had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, I saw, in gradual vision through my tears, The sweet, sad years, the […]...
12. Ripening The longer we are together The larger death grows around us. How many we know by now Who are dead! We, who were young, Now count the cost of having been. And yet as we know the dead We grow familiar with the world. We, who were young and loved each other Ignorantly, now come […]...
13. Hero ‘Jack fell as he’d have wished,’ the Mother said, And folded up the letter that she’d read. ‘The Colonel writes so nicely.’ Something broke In the tired voice that quavered to a choke. She half looked up. ‘We mothers are so proud Of our dead soldiers.’ Then her face was bowed. Quietly the Brother Officer […]...
14. Returning, We Hear the Larks Sombre the night is. And though we have our lives, we know What sinister threat lies there. Dragging these anguished limbs, we only know This poison-blasted track opens on our camp – On a little safe sleep. But hark! joy – joy – strange joy. Lo! heights of night ringing with unseen larks. Music showering […]...
15. Twas One of Those Dreams ‘TWAS one of those dreams, that by music are brought, Like a bright summer haze, o’er the poet’s warm thought When, lost in the future, his soul wanders on, And all of this life, but its sweetness, is gone. The wild notes he heard o’er the water were those He had taught to sing Erin’s […]...
16. Turns And Movies: The Cornet When she came out, that white little Russian dancer, With her bright hair, and her eyes, so young, so young, He suddenly lost his leader, and all the players, And only heard an immortal music sung,- Of dryads flashing in the green woods of April, On cobwebs trembing over the deep, wet grass: Fleeing their […]...
17. All the Hills and Vales Along All the hills and vales along Earth is bursting into song, And the singers are the chaps Who are going to die perhaps. O sing, marching men, Till the valleys ring again. Give your gladness to earth’s keeping, So be glad, when you are sleeping. Cast away regret and rue, Think what you are marching […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. Choriambics I Ah! not now, when desire burns, and the wind calls, and the suns of spring Light-foot dance in the woods, whisper of life, woo me to wayfaring; Ah! not now should you come, now when the road beckons, And good friends call, Where are songs to be sung, fights to be fought, yea! and the […]...
20. To A Poet That Died Young Minstrel, what have you to do With this man that, after you, Sharing not your happy fate, Sat as England’s Laureate? Vainly, in these iron days, Strives the poet in your praise, Minstrel, by whose singing side Beauty walked, until you died. Still, though none should hark again, Drones the blue-fly in the pane, Thickly […]...
21. A Dream Lies Dead A dream lies dead here. May you softly go Before this place, and turn away your eyes, Nor seek to know the look of that which dies Importuning Life for life. Walk not in woe, But, for a little, let your step be slow. And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise With words of […]...
22. THE FUNERAL RITES OF THE ROSE The Rose was sick, and smiling died; And, being to be sanctified, About the bed, there sighing stood The sweet and flowery sisterhood. Some hung the head, while some did bring, To wash her, water from the spring; Some laid her forth, while others wept, But all a solemn fast there kept. The holy sisters […]...
23. A Tragedy Among his books he sits all day To think and read and write; He does not smell the new-mown hay, The roses red and white. I walk among them all alone, His silly, stupid wife; The world seems tasteless, dead and done – An empty thing is life. At night his window casts a square […]...
24. Irkalla's White Caves I believe that a young woman Is standing in a circle of lions In the other side of the sky. In a little while I must carry her the flowers Which only fade here; and she will not cry If my hands are not very full. ± Fiery antlers toss within the forests of heaven […]...
25. These Fought in Any Case These fought in any case, And some believing Pro domo, in any case….. Died some, pro patria, Walked eye-deep in hell Believing in old men’s lies, then unbelieving Came home, home to a lie, Home to many deceits, Home to old lies and new infamy; Usury age-old and age-thick And liars in public places. Daring […]...
26. The Song And The Sigh The creek went down with a broken song, ‘Neath the sheoaks high; The waters carried the song along, And the oaks a sigh. The song and the sigh went winding by, Went winding down; Circling the foot of the mountain high, And the hillside brown. They were hushed in the swamp of the Dead Man’s […]...
27. Women Washing Their Hair THEY have painted and sung The women washing their hair, And the plaits and strands in the sun, And the golden combs And the combs of elephant tusks And the combs of buffalo horn and hoof. The sun has been good to women, Drying their heads of hair As they stooped and shook their shoulders […]...
28. Astrophel And Stella-First Song Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth, Which now my breast o’ercharged to music lendeth? To you, to you, all song of praise is due; Only in you my song begins and endeth. Who hath the eyes which marry state with pleasure? Who keeps the key of Nature’s chiefest treasure? To you, to […]...
29. Hate I had a bitter enemy, His heart to hate he gave, And when I died he swore that he Would dance upon my grave; That he would leap and laugh because A livid corpse was I, And that’s the reason why I was In no great haste to die. And then – such is the […]...
30. In a Disused Graveyard The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” So sure of death the […]...
31. Song from Aella O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running river be: My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. Black his cryne as the winter night, White his rode as the summer snow, Red his face as the morning light, […]...
32. Brignall Banks O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen: And as I rode by Dalton Hall, Beneath the turrets high, A Maiden on the castle wall Was singing merrily:- ‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green! […]...
33. The Raven Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “‘Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door – Only this, […]...
34. Easter Bring flowers to strew His way, Yea, sing, make holiday; Bid young lambs leap, And earth laugh after sleep. For now He cometh forth Winter flies to the north, Folds wings and cries Amid the bergs and ice. Yea, Death, great Death is dead, And Life reigns in his stead; Cometh the Athlete New from […]...
35. Elegy Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride On that darkest day. Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow Young among the long […]...
36. Reptiles And Roses So crystal clear it is to me That when I die I cease to be, All else seems sheer stupidity. All promises of Paradise Are wishful thinking, preacher’s lies, Dogmatic dust flung in our eyes. Yea, life’s immortal, swift it flows Alike in reptile and in rose, But as it comes, so too it goes. […]...
37. Death Fugue Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown We drink it at noon in the morning we drink it at night We drink it and drink it We dig a grave in the breezes there one lies unconfined A man lives in the house he plays with the serpents he writes He writes when […]...
38. After All The brooding ghosts of Australian night have gone from the bush and town; My spirit revives in the morning breeze, Though it died when the sun went down; The river is high and the stream is strong, And the grass is green and tall, And I fain would think that this world of ours is […]...
39. Lines Written In The Belief That The Ancient Roman Festival Of The Dead Was Called Ambarvalia Swings the way still by hollow and hill, And all the world’s a song; “She’s far,” it sings me, “but fair,” it rings me, “Quiet,” it laughs, “and strong!” Oh! spite of the miles and years between us, Spite of your chosen part, I do remember; and I go With laughter in my heart. So […]...
40. The Three Songs The poet sang of a battle-field Where doughty deeds were done, Where stout blows rang on helm and shield And a kingdom’s fate was spun With the scarlet thread of victory, And honor from death’s grim revelry Like a flame-red flower was won! So bravely he sang that all who heard With the sting of […]...