Death Is Here And Death Is There
Death is here and death is there,
Death is busy everywhere,
All around, within, beneath,
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Death—(Aesch., Fr., 156.)
Of all Gods Death alone
No man hath found or shown
The gift that Death would prize.
Father Death Blues
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Death Snips Proud Men
DEATH is stronger than all the governments because
the governments are men and men die and then
death laughs: Now you see 'em, now you don't.
Death is stronger than all proud men and so death
Death And Birth
Death and birth should dwell not near together:
Wealth keeps house not, even for shame, with dearth:
Fate doth ill to link in one brief tether
Death and birth.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The Gardener Lxxxi: Why Do You Whisper So Faintly
Why do you whisper so faintly in
my ears, O Death, my Death?
When the flowers droop in the
evening and cattle come back to their
Death May Be Ageing
Death may be ageing
But he still has clout
But death disarms you
Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
The Home Of Death
“Death, whaur do ye bide, auld Death?”
“I bide in ilka breath,”
“No i' the pyramids,
I Know Not
Death! I know not what room you are abiding in,
But I will go my way,
Rejoicing day by day,
Nor will I flee or stay
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Sin and Death, those sisters two,
Sat together while dawned the morning.
Sister, marry! Your house will do,
Go Away, Death!
Go away, Death!
You have come too soon.
To sunshine and song I but just awaken,
And the dew on my heart is undried and unshaken;
'Death is our eternal companion,' Don Juan said with a most serious air. 'It is always to our left, at an arm's length . . . It has always been watching you. It always will until the day it taps you.'
Death The Barber
talked to me
William Carlos Williams
On Tam The Chapman
AS Tam the chapman on a day,
Wi'Death forgather'd by the way,
Weel pleas'd, he greets a wight so famous,
And Death was nae less pleas'd wi' Thomas,
Moist with one drop of Thy blood, my dry soul
Shallâ??though she now be in extreme degree
Too stony hard, and yet too fleshlyâ??be
Freed by that drop, from being starved, hard or foul,
For Death—or rather
For Death-or rather
For the Things 'twould buy-
Suspense—is Hostiler than Death
Suspense-is Hostiler than Death-
The Ways Of Death Are Soothing And Serene
The ways of Death are soothing and serene,
And all the words of Death are grave and sweet.
From camp and church, the fireside and the street,
She beckons forth â?? and strife and song have been.
William Ernest Henley
The Poet To Death
TARRY a while, O Death, I cannot die
While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring;
Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs
Where dhadikulas sing.