Bereavement

Last Island · #1 Saturday, September 26, 2009

How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner
As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,
As enanguished he turns from the laugh of the scorner,
And drops to perfection's remembrance a tear;
When floods of despair down his pale cheeks are streaming,
When no blissful hope on his bosom is beaming,
Or, if lulled for a while, soon he starts from his dreaming,
And finds torn the soft ties to affection so dear.
Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave,
Or summer succeed to the winter of death?
Rest awhle, hapless victim! and Heaven will save
The spirit that hath faded away with the breath.
Eternity points, in its amaranth bower
Where no clouds of fate o'er the sweet prospect lour,
Unspeakable pleasure, of goodness the dower,
When woe fades away like the mist of the heath.

Saqib Shah · #2 Saturday, September 26, 2009

When Death to Either shall come

WHEN Death to either shall come,—
I pray it be first to me,—
Be happy as ever at home,
If so, as I wish, it be.
Possess thy heart, my own;
And sing to the child on thy knee,
Or read to thyself alone
The songs that I made for thee.

Robert Bridges

Vivre sa vie sans regret · #3 Sunday, September 27, 2009

tis mortal these our bodies
tis normal this our end
the tide of time changed by none
why cry over tears spillled some
This madness will never end
this banter of bards to never end
Go in peace
Rest in peace
For that is all there is
in the End.