James Shirley Poems
|1.||From Ajax Dirge||5/10/2012|
|2.||The Last Conqueror||4/15/2010|
|3.||On Her Dancing||4/15/2010|
|4.||Death's Final Conquest||4/15/2010|
|5.||Cease, Warring Thoughts||1/3/2003|
|7.||Sililoquy On Death||4/15/2010|
|8.||To A Lady Upon A Looking-Glass Sent||1/3/2003|
|9.||Song Of Nuns||1/3/2003|
|10.||The Fair Felon||1/3/2003|
|11.||Two Gentlemen That Broke Their Promise||1/3/2003|
|14.||To The Painter Preparing To Draw M.M.H.||1/3/2003|
|15.||The Glories Of Our Blood And State||1/1/2004|
|16.||Death's Subtle Ways||1/3/2003|
|17.||Death The Leveller||1/3/2003|
Death The Leveller
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against Fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crookèd scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on ...
This Garden does not take my eyes,
Though here you show how art of men
Can purchase Nature at a price
Would stock old Paradise again.
These glories while you dote upon,
I envy not your spring nor pride,
Nay, boast the summer all your own,
My thoughts with less are satisified.