John Wilbye Death Poems

  • 1.
    And though my love abounding,
    Did make me fall a sounding,
    Yet am I well contented,
    Still so to be tormented,
    ...
  • 2.
    Unkind, O, stay thy flying!
    And if I needs must die, pity me dying.
    But in thee, my heart is lying
    And no death can assail me,
    ...
  • 3.
    O, what shall I do, or whither shall I turn me?
    Shall I make unto her eyes? O, no, they'll burn me!
    Shall I seal up my eyes and speak my part?
    Then in a flood of tears I drown my heart,
    ...
  • 4.
    Ah! cruel Amarillis, since thou takâ??st delight
    To hear the accents of a doleful ditty,
    To triumph still without remorse or pity;
    I loathe this life,death must my sorrow right;
    ...
  • 5.
    Long have I made these hills and valleys weary,
    With noise of these my shrieks and cries that fill the air;
    She only, who should make me merry,
    Hears not my prayer:
    ...
  • 6.
    Ah! cannot sighs not tears, nor aught else move thee
    To pity me, who more than life do love thee?
    O cruel fates! see, now away sheâ??s flying,
    And fly, alas! alas! and leave me dying.
    ...
  • 7.
    Ye that do live in pleasures plenty,
    and dwell in Music's sweetest Airs,
    whose eyes are quick, whose ears are dainty,
    not clogg'd with earth or worldly cares,
    ...
  • 8.
    When shall my wretched life give place to death?
    That my sad cares may be enforcâ??d to leave me.
    Come, saddest shadow, stop my vital breath,
    For I am thine, then let not care bereave thee
    ...
  • 9.
    Alas! What a wretched life is this!
    Nay what a death! Where tyrant Love commandeth!
    My flowâ??ring days are in their prime declining,
    All my proud hope quite fallâ??n, and life untwining,
    ...
Total 9 Death Poems by John Wilbye

Top 10 most used topics by John Wilbye

Love 30 I Love You 30 Heart 20 Sweet 20 Life 15 Never 10 Death 9 Beauty 8 Hope 8 Grief 6

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Upon The Sand
 by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All love that has not friendship for its base,
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Though brave its walls as any in the land,
And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace;
Though skillful and accomplished artists trace
Most beautiful designs on every hand,
And gleaming statues in dim niches stand,
And mountains play in some flow'r-hidden place:
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