Death poems/ page 6 of 560 /
When Monica's young son had felt her kiss --Her weeping kiss -- for years, her sorrow flowedAt last into his wilful blood; he owedTo her his after-life of truth and bliss:And her own joy, what words, what thoughts could paint!When o'er his soul, with sweet constraining force,Came Penitence -- a fusion from remorse --And made her boy a glorious Christian saint
The starry flower, the flower-like stars that fadeAnd brighten with the daylight and the dark, --The bluet in the green I faintly mark,And glimmering crags with laurel overlaid,Even to the Lord of light, the Lamp of shade,Shine one to me, -- the least, still glorious madeAs crownèd moon, or heaven's great hierarch
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee!Let the Water and the Blood,From thy riven Side which flow'd,Be of Sin the double Cure,Cleanse me from its Guilt and Pow'r.
To The Lord Privy SealContending kings, and fields of death, too long,Have been the subject of the British song
As I came through the desert thus it was,As I came through the desert: All was black,In heaven no single star, on earth no track;A brooding hush without a stir or note,The air so thick it clotted in my throat;And thus for hours; then some enormous thingsSwooped past with savage cries and clanking wings: But I strode on austere; No hope could have no fear
Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;