After Death
IF we must part, this parting is the best:
How would you bear to lay
Your head on some warm pillow far away--
Your head, so used to lying on my breast?
But now your pillow is cold;
Your hands have flowers, and not my hands, to hold;
Upon our bed the worn bride-linen lies.
I have put the death-money upon your eyes,
So that you should not wake up in the night.
I have bound your face with white;
I have washed you, yes, with water and not with tears,--
Those arms wherein I have slept so many years,
Those feet that hastened when they came to me,
And all your body that belonged to me.
I have smoothed your dear dull hair,
And there is nothing left to say for you
And nothing left to fear or pray for you;
And I have got the rest of life to bear:
Thank God it is you, not I, who are lying there.
If I had died
And you had stood beside
This still white bed
Where the white, scented, horrible flowers are spread,--
I know the thing it is,
And I thank God that He has spared you this.
If one must bear it, thank God it was I
Who had to live and bear to see you die,
Who have to live, and bear to see you dead.
You will have nothing of it all to bear:
You will not even know that in your bed
You lie alone. You will not miss my head
Beside you on the pillow: you will rest
So soft in the grave you will not miss my breast.
But I--but I--Your pillow and your place--
And only the darkness laid against my face,
And only my anguish pressed against my side--
Thank God, thank God, that it was you who died!
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Pillow
I try to get comfortable in my bed
But there's always something wrong
with the pillow ‘neath my head.
It's either too warm or sometimes too cold.
I turn it, pummel it
Then toss it aside instead.
But then I miss it and can't decide
Shall I grab it again
Or count to ten?
How can I sleep with no support?
My neck gets stiff. My eyes won't close
And all because of the pillow I chose.
Maybe I need a silk pillowcase,
one that's fringed with fancy lace.
Or maybe it's not the pillow to blame.
Maybe it's my head that's not the same.
It's filled with words and melodies
That makes my pillow hard to please.
I'll try to get comfortable again tonight.
It's my head on that pillow
or a pillow fight.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Polly strips His bed
Polly strips back the sheets
where Master George has lain.
She folds the white sheets and
lays them on a chair. She lies
her head on the pillow where
his head has been. She sniffs
and smells him. Closing her eyes
she imagines she's there beside
him and he has her in his arms,
his lips against her flushed cheek.
She imagines they are in bed
together when dawn's light breaks
through the shutters and Susie
the other maid enters and wide
eyed she mouths a huge round O.
She opens her eyes; the pillow
is vacant beside her head, just
a small indentation where he had
laid his head the night before.
She fingers into the pocket of her
white apron a few black hairs she's
discovered on the white pillowcase.
She strips off the pillowcases and
puts them with the sheets. The bed
is now stripped of all coverings
and is left to air. She imagines as
she stands that he is still there,
laid out unclothed, skin all bare.
But in reality she knows he has
gone of to war as he has before.
She hopes he will return alive
and in one piece; no missing
limps or blind or gassed as some
have been she's read; but most of all
she dreads him laid out cold and damp
in some foreign field lying still and dead.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Teddy Bear
O Teddy Bear! with your head awry
And your comical twisted smile,
You rub your eyes -- do you wonder why
You've slept such a long, long while?
As you lay so still in the cupboard dim,
And you heard on the roof the rain,
Were you thinking . . . what has become of him?
And when will he play again?
Do you sometimes long for a chubby hand,
And a voice so sweetly shrill?
O Teddy Bear! don't you understand
Why the house is awf'ly still?
You sit with your muzzle propped on your paws,
And your whimsical face askew.
Don't wait, don't wait for your friend . . . because
He's sleeping and dreaming too.
Aye, sleeping long. . . . You remember how
He stabbed our hearts with his cries?
And oh, the dew of pain on his brow,
And the deeps of pain in his eyes!
And, Teddy Bear! you remember, too,
As he sighed and sank to his rest,
How all of a sudden he smiled to you,
And he clutched you close to his breast.
I'll put you away, little Teddy Bear,
In the cupboard far from my sight;
Maybe he'll come and he'll kiss you there,
A wee white ghost in the night.
But me, I'll live with my love and pain
A weariful lifetime through;
And my Hope: will I see him again, again?
Ah, God! If I only knew!
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Face Up
Ever since Ive seen your face
This life of mine has gone to waste
I was young and you were old
And I always knew you were cold
At the start you had a heart
But in the end you lost your friend
Can you see your own dark face?
Its dieing in a lonely place
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
As we get old, we lose our place
Reflecting back the worlds disgrace
I feel so low, I feel so humble
Sometimes in life we take a tumble
Dont let anybody tell you that youre no good
Cause you know they would
Dont let anybody tell you what you should do
Cause its not that way and...
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure
And life was just an open door
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
You were me and I was you
This world of ours it felt brand new
You took me a little further...
I heard it all before, Ive heard it all before
I cant hear it anymore
Your hair was long, your eyes was blue
Guess what Im gonna do to you
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure
And life was just an open door
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought...
Oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
I said oh, oh, how I cannot bear the thought of you
We were young and we were pure...
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Dead To The Living
Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.
IN the childhood of April, while purple woods
With the young year's blood in them smiled,
I passed through the lanes and the wakened fields,
And stood by the grave of the child.
And the pain awoke that is never dead
Though it sometimes sleeps, and again
It set its teeth in this heart of mine,
And fastened its claws in my brain:
For it seemed so hard that the little hands
And the little well-loved head
Should be out of reach of my living lips,
And be side by side with the dead--
Not side by side with us who had loved,
But with these who had never seen
The grace of the smile, the gold of the hair,
And the eyes of my baby-queen.
Yet with trees about where the brown birds build,
And with long green grass above,
She lies in the cold sweet breast of earth
Beyond the reach of our love;
Whatever befalls in the coarse loud world,
We know she will never wake.
When I thought of the sorrow she might have known,
I was almost glad for her sake. . . .
Tears might have tired those kiss-closed eyes,
Grief hardened the mouth I kissed;
I was almost glad that my dear was dead
Because of the pain she had missed.
Oh, if I could but have died a child
With a white child-soul like hers,
As pure as the wind-flowers down in the copse,
Where the soul of the spring's self stirs;
Or if I had only done with it all,
And might lie by her side unmoved!
I envied the very clods of earth
Their place near the child I loved!
And my soul rose up in revolt at life,
As I stood dry-eyed by her grave,
When sudden the grass of the churchyard sod
Rolled back like a green smooth wave;
The brown earth looked like the brown sea rocks,
The tombstones were white like spray,
And white like surf were the curling folds
Of the shrouds where the dead men lay;
For each in his place with his quiet face
I saw the dead lie low,
Who had worked and suffered and found life sad,
So many sad years ago.
Unchanged by time I saw them lie
As when first they were laid to rest,
The tired eyes closed, the sad lips still,
And the work-worn hands on the breast.
There were some who had found the green world so grey,
They had left it before their time,
And some were little ones like my dear,
And some had died in their prime;
And some were old, they had had their fill
Of bitter unfruitful hours,
And knew that none of them, none, had known
A flower of a hope like ours!
Through their shut eyelids the dead looked up,
And without a voice they said:
'We lived without hope, without hope we died,
And hopeless we lie here dead;
And death is better than life that draws
Pain in, as it draws in breath,
If life never dreams of a coming day
When life shall not envy death.
Through the dark of our hours and our times we lived,
Uncheered by a single ray
Of such hope as lightens the lives of you
Who are finding life hard to-day;
With our little lanterns of human love
We lighted our dark warm night--
But you in the chill of the dawn are set
With your face to the eastern light.
Freedom is waiting with hands held out
Till you tear the veil from her face--
And when once men have seen the light of her eyes,
And felt her divine embrace,
The light of the world will be risen indeed,
And will shine in the eyes of men,
And those who come after will find life fair,
And their lives worth living then!
Will you strive to the light in your loud rough world,
That these things may come to pass,
Or lie in the shadow beside the child,
And strive to the sun through the grass?'
'My world while I may,' I cried; 'but you
Whose lives were as dark as your grave?'
'We too are a part of the coming light,'
They called through the smooth green wave.
Their white shrouds gleamed as the flood of green
Rolled over and hid them from me--
Hid all but the little hands and the hair,
And the face that I always see.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angel Band
(traditional/emmylou harris)
My latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph has begun
Oh, come angel band come and around me stand
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear my longing heart to him who bled and died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin and gives me victory
Oh, come angel band come and around me stand
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
Oh bear me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An Embroidery
Rose Red's hair is brown as fur
and shines in firelight as she prepares
supper of honey and apples, curds and whey,
for the bear, and leaves it ready
on the hearth-stone.
Rose White's grey eyes
look into the dark forest.
Rose Red's cheeks are burning,
sign of her ardent, joyful
compassionate heart.
Rose White is pale,
turning away when she hears
the bear's paw on the latch.
When he enters, there is
frost on his fur,
he draws near to the fire
giving off sparks.
Rose Red catches the scent of the forest,
of mushrooms, of rosin.
Together Rose Red and Rose White
sing to the bear;
it is a cradle song, a loom song,
a song about marriage, about
a pilgrimage to the mountains
long ago.
Raised on an elbow,
the bear stretched on the hearth
nods and hums; soon he sighs
and puts down his head.
He sleeps; the Roses
bank the fire.
Sunk in the clouds of their feather bed
they prepare to dream.
Rose Red in a cave that smells of honey
dreams she is combing the fur of her cubs
with a golden comb.
Rose White is lying awake.
Rose White shall marry the bear's brother.
Shall he too
when the time is ripe,
step from the bear's hide?
Is that other, her bridegroom,
here in the room?
poem by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Farewell To The Dead
Come near!-ere yet the dust
Soil the bright paleness of the settled brow,
Look on your brother, and embrace him now,
In still and solemn trust!
Come near!-once more let kindred lips be press'd
On his cold cheek; then bear him to his rest!
Look yet on this young face!
What shall the beauty, from amongst us gone,
Leave of its image, ev'n where most it shone,
Gladdening its hearth and race?
Dim grows the semblance on man's heart impress'd-
-Come near, and bear the beautiful to rest!
Ye weep, and it is well!
For tears befit earth's partings!-Yesterday
Song was upon the lips of this pale clay,
And sunshine seem'd to dwell
Where'er he mov'd-the welcome and the bless'd!
-Now gaze! and bear the silent unto rest!
Look yet on him, whose eye
Meets yours no more, in sadness or in mirth!
Was he not fair amidst the sons of earth,
The beings born to die?
-But not where death has power may love be bless'd--
Come near! and bear ye the belov'd to rest!
How may the mother's heart
Dwell on her son, and dare to hope again?
The spring's rich promise hath been given in vain,
The lovely must depart!
Is he not gone, our brightest and our best?
Come near! and bear the early-call'd to rest!
Look on him! is he laid
To slumber from the harvest or the chase?
-Too still and sad the smile upon his face,
Yet that, ev'n that, must fade!
Death holds not long unchang'd his fairest guest,-
Come near! and bear the mortal to his rest!
His voice of mirth hath ceas'd
Amidst the vineyards! there is left no place
For him whose dust receives your vain embrace,
At the gay bridal feast!
Earth must take earth to moulder on her breast;
Come near! weep o'er him! bear him to his rest!
Yet mourn ye not as they
Whose spirit's light is quench'd!-for him the past
Is seal'd. He may not fall, he may not cast
His birthright's hope away!
All is not here of our belov'd and bless'd-
-Leave ye the sleeper with his God to rest!
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Every day I bear a burden
Every day I bear a burden, and I bear this calamity for a purpose:
I bear the discomfort of cold and December's snow in hope of spring.
Before the fattener-up of all who are lean, I drag this so emaciated body;
Though they expel me from two hundred cities, I bear it for the sake of the love of a prince;
Though my shop and house be laid waste, I bear it in fidelity to a tulip bed.
God's love is a very strong fortress; I carry my soul's baggage inside a fortress.
I bear the arrogance of every stonehearted stranger for the sake of a friend, of one long-suffering;
For the sake of his ruby I dig out mountains and mine; for the sake of that rose-laden one I endure a thorn.
For the sake of those two intoxicating eyes of his, like the intoxicated I endure crop sickness;
For the sake of a quarry not to be contained in a snare, I spread out the snare and decoy of the hunter.
He said, "Will you bear this sorrow till the Resurrection?" Yes, Friend, I bear it, I bear it.
My breast is the Cave and Shams-e Tabrizi is the Companion of the Cave.
A Teddy Bear Is Forever
There’s a spot in the garden of childhood,
That children and adults can share;
A place in the heart and memory,
For one’s very own stuffed teddy bear.
Now, a little girl’s dolls will get broken,
And a little boy’s kites fly away,
But a soft, cuddly teddy’s forever,
When we’ve gotten too grownup to play.
And a young lady’s dreams may be dampened,
And a man sees his plans go astray,
But a teddy bear kept from our childhood,
Through life’s troubles will faithfully stay.
For whether it’s kept in a bookcase,
Or lying on top of one’s bed,
A teddy bear waits for it’s owner,
With eyes wide awake in it’s head.
And if all the world’s children were given,
The gift of a soft teddy bear,
We should see their glad faces,
Reflecting love and goodwill everywhere.
© S.E.S
poem by Sara Stowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Teddy Bear
Modern teddy bear
My cyber teddy bear
Your walk
Is clumsy
And your fur
Polyester
But the battery
In your heart
Is real and solid
Like the soldered
Lead lid of coffins.
When I was a child
You were different.
A little worn out
And soft you sat
Obediently
Next to the pillow
On my bed,
Until one day
You vanished,
Like the shadow
Of a Monday Moon.
Yet last night
I saw you
In a dream.
A young man
Played the violin
Somewhere
And you sat
In an armchair
In my old room
Crying.
poem by Paul Hartal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What if we finally meet
what when we finally meet
it's cold like winter
between me and you
a mere stone to reflect
the wonderful time
we have for each other
and my words like summer wind
sailing the warm expanse of
your bossom
i will send a smile that refracts tears
from another realm
bear with me, bear with me
bear with the drizzle, the drizzle
bear with the hands of nature
as they turn the wheel of fate
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Angel Band
My latest sun is sinking fast
My race is nearly run
My strongest trials now have past
My triumph is begin
Oh, come, angel band
Come and around me, stand
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
Oh, bear my longing heart to him
Who bled and died for me
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin
And brings me victory
Oh, come, angel band
Come and around me, stand
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
Oh, come, angel band
Come and around me, stand
Oh, bear me away on your snow white wings
To my immortal home
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A strong Bear, a poor cave
A quarrel took place,
Between a tight, narrow cave,
and a huge, black, hairy bear.
the poor cave was afraid of,
her narrowness,
the bear had no fear.
Actually, the bear was
in search of a cave,
where he could spent
his night merrily,
his mission was to hide himself,
by all means, fair or unfair.
The bear begged the shelter,
from the cave to get entered,
but cave denied.
she said, ' I am not wide.
if I take you in,
you may get me in trouble,
every thing mine get in disorder.
how can you stay in me quite?
seek other place to-night.'
The bear snored a loud,
as if, thunders of big cloud.
huge bear tried getting forcibly in,
smiled and said, 'I have to win.
O' poor cave, see my strong body,
look at my height!
I am quite black,
while you are white.
you are unaware of facts,
you are mine, my cave,
you are made for me.
I know, you think yourself too small,
If I enter, you will be torn,
and might get burst,
but it is nothing like this,
surrender yourself
before me silently.
or I will react violently.
the little cave said nothing,
but tried to scape herself,
with all her might.
thrusting the bear out.
Bear so huge, no doubt.
He tried utmost entering forcibly,
getting success a little bit.
until the cave burst,
the bear continued to hit.
At last, a hot bloody stream,
blew out of the cave.
It couldn't itself save.
It was torn and oozing sweat.
the huge bear was running,
in and out very smoothly,
Poor cave, in this struggle,
has become out.
the bear has come first, no doubt.
....................................... ............
poem by Rani Madhubala
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Barely bearable
I find the winter hard to bear.
A fact that must clearly state.
I wish I had been born a bear
and had the sense to hibernate
I do not like the damp and cold
nor do I like the snow and ice
and it gets worse as I grow old.
I often think it would be nice.
To be a hairy grizzly bear
and sleep from autumn until spring.
Kept snug and warm by my thick hair,
no need to wake for anything.
But sadly I am not a bear
I need my thermal underwear.
1-Jan-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Soldier's Grave
THERE'S a white stone placed upon yonder tomb,
Beneath is a soldier lying -
The death-wound came, amid sword and plume,
When banner and ball were flying.
Yet now he sleeps, the turf on his breast,
By wet wild flowers surrounded;
The church shadow falls o'er the place of his rest,
Where the steps of his childhood bounded.
There were tears, that fell from manly eyes,
There was woman's gentle weeping,
And the wailing of age and infant cries,
O'er the grave, where he lies sleeping.
He had left his home in his spirit's pride,
With his father's sword and blessing;
He stood with the valiant, side by side,
His country's wrongs redressing.
He came again, in the light of his fame,
When the red campaign was over;
One heart, that, in secret, had kept his name,
Was claimed by the soldier lover.
But the cloud of strife came upon the sky;-
He left his sweet home for battle;
Left his young child's lisp for the loud war-cry,
And the cannon's long death-rattle.
He came again - but an altered man:
The path of the grave was before him,
And the smile, that he wore, was cold and wan,
For the shadow of death hung o'er him.
He spoke of victory - spoke of cheer:-
These are the words, that are vainly spoken
To the childless mother, or orphan's ear,
Or the widow, whose heart is broken.
A helmet and sword are engraved on the stone,
Half hidden by yonder willow;
There he sleeps, whose death in battle was won,
But he died on his own home pillow.
poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Me & My Teddy Bear
Me and my teddy bear
Oh me and my teddy bear
We got no hair, but we dont care
Me and my teddy bear
We love to play and play
cause they take all the pain away
They take all the pain away
Like a bird of prey who got nothin to say
cause they take all the pain away
Yes they take all the pain from my head
Yes they take all the pain from my head
Two hands, two feet
Im happy and sweet
They take all the pain from my head.
Oh me and my teddy bear
We got no hair, but we dont care
Me and my teddy bear
We love to play and play
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Twice Times
There were Two Little Bears who lived in a Wood,
And one of them was Bad and the other was Good.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear left all his buttons undone.
They lived in a Tree when the weather was hot,
And one of them was Good, and the other was Not.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies were worn right through.
They lived in a Cave when the weather was cold,
And they Did, and they Didn't Do, what they were told.
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear never had his hand-ker-chee.
They lived in the Wood with a Kind Old Aunt,
And one said 'Yes'm,' and the other said 'Shan't!'
Good Bear learnt his Twice Times Four -
But Bad Bear's knicketies were terrible tore.
And then quite suddenly (just like Us)
One got Better and the other got Wuss.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Three -
But Bad Bear coughed in his hand-ker-chee!
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times Two -
But Bad Bear's thingummies looked like new.
Good Bear muddled his Twice Times One -
But Bad Bear never left his buttons undone.
There may be a Moral, though some say not;
I think there's a moral, though I don't know what.
But if one gets better, as the other gets wuss,
These Two Little Bears are just like Us.
For Christopher remembers up to Twice Times Ten ...
But I keep forgetting where I put my pen.*
* So I have had to write this one in pencil.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem Under the Pillow~
The Poem Under Pillow
It was last year..
Oo maybe this year
Poem written to hear
The poem very dear
Left under the pillow
Left to alone to bear
Far away from our hear
No one could get too near
This poem was hidden clearly
Hidden from the eyes...
Hidden by the poet because of fear
Hidden from the worlds' ears
Oo what a poem my dears
This poem is still under the...
Afraid To Sleep
We slept in this room together but now youre gone
And its so quiet I turn the tv on
We lived in this room together we painted the walls
Now time doesnt stand still
It crawls
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
I never realized how much I was in love with you
Until you started sleeping with someone new
Last night I dreamed again and you were there
You kissed my face you touched my hair
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
Lying alone in the darkness with a memory in my head
Theres a big hole where my heart is
And a lonely feeling rollin round my bed
And Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
Im afraid to sleep
Cuz if I do I dream of you
And dreams are always deep
On the pillow where I weep
On the pillow where I weep
Im afraid to sleep.
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!