Death Poems - Poems For Death - A Ballad Of Death
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A Ballad Of Death - Poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Kneel down, fair Love, and fill thyself with tears,
Girdle thyself with sighing for a girth
Upon the sides of mirth,
Cover thy lips and eyelids, let thine ears
Be filled with rumour of people sorrowing;
Make thee soft raiment out of woven sighs
Upon the flesh to cleave,
Set pains therein and many a grievous thing,
And many sorrows after each his wise
For armlet and for gorget and for sleeve.
O Love's lute heard about the lands of death,
Left hanged upon the trees that were therein;
O Love and Time and Sin,
Three singing mouths that mourn now underbreath,
Three lovers, each one evil spoken of;
O smitten lips wherethrough this voice of mine
Came softer with her praise;
Abide a little for our lady's love.
The kisses of her mouth were more than wine,
And more than peace the passage of her days.
O Love, thou knowest if she were good to see.
O Time, thou shalt not find in any land
Till, cast out of thine hand,
The sunlight and the moonlight fail from thee,
Another woman fashioned like as this.
O Sin, thou knowest that all thy shame in her
Was made a goodly thing;
Yea, she caught Shame and shamed him with her kiss,
With her fair kiss, and lips much lovelier
Than lips of amorous roses in late spring.
By night there stood over against my bed
Queen Venus with a hood striped gold and black,
Both sides drawn fully back
From brows wherein the sad blood failed of red,
And temples drained of purple and full of death.
Her curled hair had the wave of sea-water
And the sea's gold in it.
Her eyes were as a dove's that sickeneth.
Strewn dust of gold she had shed over her,
And pearl and purple and amber on her feet.
Upon her raiment of dyed sendaline
Were painted all the secret ways of love
And covered things thereof,
That hold delight as grape-flowers hold their wine;
Red mouths of maidens and red feet of doves,
And brides that kept within the bride-chamber
Their garment of soft shame,
And weeping faces of the wearied loves
That swoon in sleep and awake wearier,
With heat of lips and hair shed out like flame.
The tears that through her eyelids fell on me
Made mine own bitter where they ran between
As blood had fallen therein,
She saying; Arise, lift up thine eyes and see
If any glad thing be or any good
Now the best thing is taken forth of us;
Even she to whom all praise
Was as one flower in a great multitude,
One glorious flower of many and glorious,
One day found gracious among many days:
Even she whose handmaiden was Love--to whom
At kissing times across her stateliest bed
Kings bowed themselves and shed
Pale wine, and honey with the honeycomb,
And spikenard bruised for a burnt-offering;
Even she between whose lips the kiss became
As fire and frankincense;
Whose hair was as gold raiment on a king,
Whose eyes were as the morning purged with flame,
Whose eyelids as sweet savour issuing thence.
Then I beheld, and lo on the other side
My lady's likeness crowned and robed and dead.
Sweet still, but now not red,
Was the shut mouth whereby men lived and died.
And sweet, but emptied of the blood's blue shade,
The great curled eyelids that withheld her eyes.
And sweet, but like spoilt gold,
The weight of colour in her tresses weighed.
And sweet, but as a vesture with new dyes,
The body that was clothed with love of old.
Ah! that my tears filled all her woven hair
And all the hollow bosom of her gown--
Ah! that my tears ran down
Even to the place where many kisses were,
Even where her parted breast-flowers have place,
Even where they are cloven apart--who knows not this?
Ah! the flowers cleave apart
And their sweet fills the tender interspace;
Ah! the leaves grown thereof were things to kiss
Ere their fine gold was tarnished at the heart.
Ah! in the days when God did good to me,
Each part about her was a righteous thing;
Her mouth an almsgiving,
The glory of her garments charity,
The beauty of her bosom a good deed,
In the good days when God kept sight of us;
Love lay upon her eyes,
And on that hair whereof the world takes heed;
And all her body was more virtuous
Than souls of women fashioned otherwise.
Now, ballad, gather poppies in thine hands
And sheaves of brier and many rusted sheaves
Rain-rotten in rank lands,
Waste marigold and late unhappy leaves
And grass that fades ere any of it be mown;
And when thy bosom is filled full thereof
Seek out Death's face ere the light altereth,
And say "My master that was thrall to Love
Is become thrall to Death."
Bow down before him, ballad, sigh and groan.
But make no sojourn in thy outgoing;
For haply it may be
That when thy feet return at evening
Death shall come in with thee.
Comments about A Ballad Of Death by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Poems About Death
- 1. Death Is Nothing At All , Henry Scott Holland
- 2. And Death Shall Have No Dominion , Dylan Thomas
- 3. Because I Could Not Stop For Death , Emily Dickinson
- 4. Death Be Not Proud , John Donne
- 5. Let Me Die A Youngman's Death , Roger McGough
- 6. Nothing But Death , Pablo Neruda
- 7. A Dream Of Death , William Butler Yeats
- 8. A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, O.. , Dylan Thomas
- 9. The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner , Randall Jarrell
- 10. Death , Rainer Maria Rilke
- 11. Father Death Blues , Allen Ginsberg
- 12. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death , William Butler Yeats
- 13. First Death In Nova Scotia , Elizabeth Bishop
- 14. Death &Amp; Fame , Allen Ginsberg
- 15. Death Wants More Death , Charles Bukowski
- 16. Easter- The Resurrection Of Jesus Christ.. , Dr. A.Celestine Raj Manohar ..
- 17. Go Down, Death , James Weldon Johnson
- 18. A Thought For A Lonely Death-Bed , Elizabeth Barrett Browning
- 19. The Beauty Of Death Xiv , Khalil Gibran
- 20. A City's Death By Fire , Derek Walcott
- 21. A Death Blow Is A Life Blow To Some , Emily Dickinson
- 22. Gacela Of The Dark Death , Federico García Lorca
- 23. After Death , Sara Teasdale
- 24. The Death Of The Hired Man , Robert Frost
- 25. The Dance Of Death , Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
- 26. Death Xxvii , Khalil Gibran
- 27. On The Death Of A Young Lady Of Five Yea.. , Phillis Wheatley
- 28. Death Fugue , Paul Celan
- 29. Death Leaves Us Homesick, Who Behind , Emily Dickinson
- 30. Death Is Here And Death Is There , Percy Bysshe Shelley
- 31. A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An .. , Phillis Wheatley
- 32. On The Death Of Rev. Mr. George Whitefield , Phillis Wheatley
- 33. Ode On The Death Of A Favourite Cat Drow.. , Thomas Gray
- 34. On The Death Of Anne Brontë , Charlotte Brontë
- 35. A Poet's Death Is His Life Iv , Khalil Gibran
- 36. I Have A Rendezvous With Death , Alan Seeger
- 37. The Death Of Autumn , Edna St. Vincent Millay
- 38. On Death , Percy Bysshe Shelley
- 39. Death , William Butler Yeats
- 40. A Satirical Elegy On The Death Of A Late.. , Jonathan Swift
- 41. Death Is A Dialogue Between , Emily Dickinson
- 42. The Death Of The Flowers , William Cullen Bryant
- 43. All But Death, Can Be Adjusted , Emily Dickinson
- 44. Love &Amp; Fame &Amp; Death , Charles Bukowski
- 45. The Death Of Joy Gardner , Benjamin Zephaniah
- 46. If Death Is Kind , Sara Teasdale
- 47. As At Thy Portals Also Death , Walt Whitman
- 48. On Hearing Of A Death , Rainer Maria Rilke
- 49. Death And His Brother Sleep (‘morphine’) , Heinrich Heine
- 50. A Ballad Of Death , Algernon Charles Swinburne
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- carpe diem