Death - Poetry
Death - Poetry
Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave, where is thy victory?
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We are such stuff as dreams are made on...
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To the fateless ones all is given...
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Come not, you said, when I am dead, to drop thy foolish tears upon my grave...
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Where is it now, the glory and the dream?...
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Our life is short; and our days run as fast away as does the sun ...
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I was able to bury the coffin of your memories in the grave...
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Revisiting scenes of past delight...
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Your youth is spent, and yet you are not old...
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For those who believe in eternal life for all humanity ... Death be not proud!
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And quitting life (ye) shall quit thy living pain ...
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I am borne darkly, fearfully afar; whilst your soul beacons like a star
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Some things are just lost for good...
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And when I feel ... that I shall never look upon thee more...
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From sense of pain and grief we shall be free...
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream?
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Delusion in death was denial in life...
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We will not grieve but rather find strength in what remains behind
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The illusions of life, delusions of death...
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Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, this dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?
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Can death be sleep, when life is but a dream?
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