Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

(1840 - 1922 / England)

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt Poems

161. Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter I 4/13/2010
162. Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter Iii 4/13/2010
163. Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter Iv 4/13/2010
164. Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter V 4/13/2010
165. He Makes An End 4/13/2010
166. Her Name Liberty 4/13/2010
167. Honour Dishonoured 4/13/2010
168. How Grey The World Was 4/13/2010
169. How Shall I Build 4/13/2010
170. I Will Smile No More 4/13/2010
171. If I Forget Thee 4/13/2010
172. If I Had Known You 4/13/2010
173. If We Had Met 4/13/2010
174. In Memoriam W.M & E.B.J. 4/13/2010
175. In The Night 4/13/2010
176. Ireland’s Vengeance 4/13/2010
177. Jacinths And Jessamines 4/13/2010
178. Jewelled Offering 4/13/2010
179. Laughter And Death 1/1/2004
180. Le Roi Est Mort. Vive Le Roi! 4/13/2010
181. Lebid 4/13/2010
182. Liberty, Equality, Fraternity 4/13/2010
183. Lilac And Gold And Green 4/13/2010
184. Love After Sorrow 4/13/2010
185. Love In The Summer Hills 4/13/2010
186. Love Is Best 4/13/2010
187. Love Is Master Still 4/13/2010
188. Love Me A Little 4/13/2010
189. Love Rides Disguised 4/13/2010
190. Love’s Likenings 4/13/2010
191. Many Are Called 4/13/2010
192. Mitigations 4/13/2010
193. Moonstruck 4/13/2010
194. My Only Title 4/13/2010
195. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet I 4/13/2010
196. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Ii 4/13/2010
197. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Iii 4/13/2010
198. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Iv 4/13/2010
199. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet Ix 4/13/2010
200. Natalia’s Resurrection: Sonnet V 4/13/2010
Best Poem of Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Laughter And Death

THERE is no laughter in the natural world
Of beast or fish or bird, though no sad doubt
Of their futurity to them unfurled
Has dared to check the mirth-compelling shout.
The lion roars his solemn thunder out
To the sleeping woods. The eagle screams her cry.
Even the lark must strain a serious throat
To hurl his blest defiance at the sky.
Fear, anger, jealousy, have found a voice.
Love’s pain or rapture the brute bosoms swell.
Nature has symbols for her nobler joys,
Her nobler sorrows. Who had dared foretell
That only man, by some sad ...

Read the full of Laughter And Death

Written At Florence

O WORLD, in very truth thou art too young;
When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age?
World, with thy covering of yellow flowers,
Hast thou forgot what generations sprung
Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone?
Hast thou no place in all their heritage
Where thou dost only weep, that I may come
Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers?
   O world, in very truth thou art too young.

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