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Poems about Death
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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
So! Is it death at last Coming so gentle-wise?
Today, there are not tears enough
Yesterday, she was here
The Seed-Merchant has lost his son,
His dear, his loved, his only one.
Sick on my journey, only my dreams will wander
When the old junk man Death
Comes
Grief on the death, it has blackened my heart:
It has snatched my low and left me desolate,
In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Holding a yellow chrysanthemum in the early morning
I visited the graveyard
I wish to leave the world
By its natural door;
Ah! linger yet — a God of love is breathing
New life and passion through the frozen earth,
Put your man down somewhere in a good lasting soil.
Yo quiero salir del mundo Por la puerta natural:
Yo pienso, cuando me alegro Como un escolar sencillo,
En el bote iba remando Por el lago seductor
Beat in the fumy heat,
among the seared pines,
I would if I could choose
Age and die outwards as a tulip does;
O the calling of the waves on the pebbled beach below,
And the seagull sweeping o'er the waters grey!
They turn the key in the door, take out their old, well-hidden letters,
Cese, señora, el duelo en vuestro canto,
¿Qué fuera nuestra vida sin enojos?
Here, where the lonely hooting owl
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Into the moon-lit night
go, oh funeral bier,
This is no longer a song, no human hum. It can be heard reaching
Helen S. Lamari, 1878-1912 Poet and musician.
Death is the bullies bashing against the black walls and roof tiling,
Por la tumba del cortijo Donde está el padre enterrado,
"HO, there,! Fisherman, hold your hand!
Tell me what is that far away,—
"Father, I gave my gold and gear,
Cattle and goods full tale,
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