Fortunatus Nimium
I
I have lain in the sun,
I have toiled as I might,
I have thought as I would,
And now it is night.
II
My bed full of sleep,
My heart of content
For mirth that I met
The way that I went.
III
I welcome fatigue
While frenzy and care,
Like thin summer clouds,
Go melting in air.
IV
To dream as I may
And awake when I will,
With the song of the birds
And the sun on the hill.
V
Or death were it death,
To what should I wake,
Who loved in my home
All life for its sake?
VI
What good have I wrought?
I laugh to have learned
That joy cannot come
Unless it be earned:
VII
For a happier lot
Than God giveth me
It never hath been
Nor ever shall be.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Related quotes
Nimium Fortunatus
I have lain in the sun
I have toil'd as I might,
I have thought as I would,
And now it is night.
My bed full of sleep,
My heart full of content
For friends that I met
The way that I went.
I welcome fatigue
While frenzy and care
Like thin summer clouds
Go melting in air.
To dream as I may
And awake when I will
With the song of the birds
And the sun on the hill.
Or death - were it death -
To what would I wake
Who loved in my home
All life for its sake?
What good have I wrought?
I laugh to have learned
That joy cannot come
Unless it be earned;
For a happier lot
Than God giveth me
It never hath been
Nor ever shall be.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Let The Night Sleep
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!
While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!
While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Awake, My Heart
Awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
The darkness silvers away, the morn doth break,
It leaps in the sky: unrisen lustres slake
The o'ertaken moon. Awake, O heart, awake!
She too that loveth awaketh and hopes for thee:
Her eyes already have sped the shades that flee,
Already they watch the path thy feet shall take:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
And if thou tarry from her, - if this could be, -
She cometh herself, O heart, to be loved, to thee;
For thee would unashamed herself forsake:
Awake, to be loved, my heart, awake, awake!
Awake! The land is scattered with light, and see,
Uncanopied sleep is flying from field and tree;
And blossoming boughs of April in laughter shake:
Awake, O heart, to be loved, awake, awake!
Lo, all things wake and tarry and look for thee:
She looketh and saith, "O sun, now bring him to me.
Come, more adored, O adored, for his coming's sake,
And awake, my heart, to be loved, awake, awake!"
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Autopilot
I can sleep, but I won't rest
I'll try to rest, but I'll only sleep
My dreams were once my escape
My nights held my happy days
Awake, I was depresed
Alseep, I had energy
I'd cry myself to sleep
Then I'd cry no more
Spreading my wings
I'd laugh under night's sun
Flying around the world
I'd make a hundred friends
Throwing fire and ice
I'd defeat all my enemies
Then I would wake up
And happiness fled
Walking through autopilot
In a world that wasn't real
Looking but never seeing
I'd cry under day's moon
Existing but never living
I'd avoid everyone
Closing my eyes
I'd hide from any enemies
I once rested
In the chaos of my dreams
The loud sleeping happiness
Was better than the quiet waking sadness
But things have changed
In a moment, a lifetime
Awake, I am content
Asleep, I am upset
If I sleep, I dream
When I dream, I fear
Running in terror
Crying in death
I see faces unkown
And know pain unfelt
I once looked for sleep to find rest
Now I avoid sleep so not to lose rest
My heaven became my hell
My hallucination became my shelter
I do not sleep, I do not rest
Tired, but I am happy
A new kind of autopilot
Which existance is worse?
Awake, I fear sleep coming
Asleep, I cannot wake
Never resting, only existing
Life on autopilot
poem by Juvela Obi
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Song of Warriors and Saints
Sing me a song
That could lull me to sleep
And make me dream
Of my dream before I weep...
For in my sleep
I may see again
Visions I cannot remember
At dawn when I was awake.
And when my skin is seared
By the scorching heat
Of day, my sweet dreams
And the song can heal the pain.
Sing to me the song
Of a courageous warrior
In the field of battle
That leads to honor and the grave...
But in death, the warrior sees
The struggle to fight
For freedom and equality
Is his poem of elegy...
And in his wake,
The living sing a new song
And to his funeral they march
With a jaunty heart!
Sing to me the song
Of Solomon or Socrates -
The right way - or the road
To perdition and to shame!
Or the songs of angels
That lift my ailing spirit-
For the good and the truth,
In my heart, I always seek...
And with a melodious cry
My world is free of lies
And I live the life
I longed for before I die...
For the song in my dream
Is the song of all songs-
The song of warriors and saints!
poem by Jane Quijano
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A Crowned Poet
IN thy coach of state
Pass, O King, along:
He no envy feels
To whom God giveth song.
Starving, still I smile,
Laugh at want and wrong:
He is fed and crowned
To whom God giveth song.
Better than all pomps
That to rank belong,—
One such dream as his
To whom God giveth song.
Let us greet, O King,
As we pass along:
He, too, is a king
To whom God giveth song.
poem by Anne Reeve Aldrich
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Death
Death death
Death death death
Death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death death death death
Death death death death death
Death death death death
Death death death
Death death
Death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death is.....
Death is peaceful
Death is sharp pain in my heart
Death is feeling sadness
Death is deppresion
death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is when i cant think about whats right
Death is a good thing on my behalf
Death started when i gained life
Death is where ill go
Death is near
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
DEATH WILL STOP MY MISERY
poem by Angelique Paniagua
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The Dying Queen
"I would meet death awake."
The strength that bore her on for years
Was ebbing fast away,
And o'er the pale and lifep;worn face,
Death's solemn shadows lay.
With tender love and gentle care,
Friends gathered round her bed,
And for her sake each footfall hushed
The echoes of its tread.
They knew the restlessness of death
Through every nerve did creep,
And carefully they tried to lull
The dying Queen to sleep.
In vain she felt Death's icy hand
Her failing heart-strings shake;
And, rousing up, she firmly said,
"I'd meet my God awake."
Awake, I've met the battle's shock,
And born the cares of state;
Nor shall I take your lethean cup,
And slumber at death's gate.
Did I not watch with eyes alert,
The path where foes did tend;
And shall I veil my eyes with sleep,
To meet my God and friend?
Nay, rather from my weary lids,
This heavy slumber shake,
That I may pass the mystic vale,
And meet my God awake.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
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The Men Who Sleep With Danger
The men who camp with Danger
Are mostly quiet men:
And one may use a rifle,
And one may use a pen,
And one may strap a camera
In deserts to his bike;
But men who sleep with Danger
Are pretty much alike.
To men in places pleasant
Or in the barren West
There’s Danger ever present –
A half unheeded guest.
But , thoughtful for the stranger,
The timid or the weak –
The men who camp with Danger
Keep watch but do not speak.
The men who go with Danger
Are mostly dreamy-eyed
Upon the swooping fo’c’sle.
Or by the camp-fire side,
And when they sit in darkness,
To show us where they are:
The glowing of a pipe-bowl
And often a cigar
The men who camp with Danger
Have quiet humour too,
And songs that you’ve forgotten,
And real good yarns for you.
There’s little you can tell them
Of yourself or your own
That men who’ve lived with Danger
Have never felt or known.
The men who sleep with Danger
Sleep soundly while they may,
But always wake at midnight
Or just before the day.
A something in the darkness
That shudders at the dawn –
A side-mate softly wakened,
A rifle swiftly drawn.
The men who sail with Danger
As actors are ideal:
They lightly laugh to fool you
When Danger’s very real.
The men who sail with Danger
A wondrous insight have:
They know if you are timid,
They know if you are brave.
The stewards set the tables
With careless, practised care,
And take accustomed comforts
To sea-sick cabins there.
They knock at doors of state-rooms
With broth and tea and toast,
While well they know, it’s touch and go,
And death sits on the coast.
The man who lives with Danger
Has knowledge all his own;
The instinct of a woman,
Of men who fight alone.
He learns from peace and comfort,
He learns from care and strife;
Unwittingly from all things
And from his native wife.
The men who live with Danger
See sermons in a log;
They have the nerves of horses,
The instincts of a dog,
When illness comes to loved ones
They know where’er they roam –
Have you seen, without for reason,
A farther start for home?
They know and feel our 'warnings'
As only Gipsies do;
They know the Norse Vardoger –
They hear and see it, too.
They know when death has passed them,
And the death watch is at end.
They know when he is coming –
The Unexpected Friend.
The men who live with Danger,
They take things as they go –
In seeming unpreparedness,
To those who do not know.
They sleep when they have toiled and laughed
And fought for someone’s sake;
But Danger whispers in their ear,
And they are wide awake !
poem by Henry Lawson
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Forgiveness!
Forgiveness is the sweet fruit a tree giveth,
Forgiveness is that energy, a fruit to its eater giveth,
Forgiveness is the milk a cow giveth,
Forgiveness is the light, that burning candle giveth,
Forgiveness is the life, the world giveth,
Forgiveness is rain that the clouds giveth,
Forgiveness is that natural, the one understood nature giveth,
Forgiveness is the perfume of selflessness in one spredeth,
Like sunlight in winter,
like moonlight in dark,
Like cool breeze in summer,
Like oasis in a desert,
Like spring of pure love, from a pure heart forever springeth!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Death is when....
Death is when my loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain in my heart
Death is this feeling of permanent sadness and pain
Death is when my loved ones have gone away
Death is the call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is the lesson i need to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is this unhappy feeling i have
Death is pleasant on my behalf
Death is the day i end my life
Death is when i give up the fight
Death is happiness to the world around me
Death started when i gained my life
Death can be helped along with this knife
Death is where i shall go
Death is close, i kno
Death willl come fast
Death is vast
Death is what i see
Death lives inside of me
Death is joy to me
Death has come for me
Death is gonna take me
Death will stop my misery
Death loves my company
Death ends the pain
Death takes me on that train
Death is near
Death is finally here
Every Time I Open My Eyes
Night or day
I dream of you
Dream of spending time with you too
Dream we decided to fall in love and that you'd always stay
Sometimes it makes me want to sleep all the time
What's the point of being awake
When during my dreams is when I'm happy
Because during my dreams you're here with me
I'll try to sleep for your sake
We've had the best times together these past three weeks
Even though I haven't seen you in awhile
Every night I go to sleep with a smile
But every morning, every time I wake up
I feel the depression, someone take this cup
Because every time I open my eyes I'm still alone
No matter how sweet the dream, it ends
No matter how much love my heart sends
The dreams they end and when I open my eyes I'm empty
When I open my eyes I'm still alone, I'm still me.... just me
I almost don't want to dream for fear of harsh reality
I know it's selfish of me
To want to dream all day and then not because it hurts my feelings
I wish I could just tape up my heart with sealings
And not let anyone is because all I dream of is true love
And all I can think when I wake up is: I'm completely alone
I'm unloved
I can't write poetry, and I can't rhyme
I have no skill, and I have no true love
EVERY SINGLE TIME MY EYES ARE OPEN!
I'm just alone even when I close my eyes to cry, the second they open tears
Come again, because I'm still alone...
It's gotten to the point where I can barely cry I've drowned in my emotion
I almost wish for death again, anything to end this loneliness
Why do I seek love so ardently when I have nothing left to give of me...
Maybe that's why when I open my eyes I may be a young boy
But I feel like
'An old man, filled with regrets, waiting to die alone.'
poem by David Knox
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Verses For Pictures
Day.
I am Day; I bring again
Life and glory, Love and pain:
Awake, arise! from death to death
Through me the World’s tale quickeneth.
Spring.
Spring am I, too soft of heart
Much to speak ere I depart:
Ask the Summer-tide to prove
The abundance of my love.
Summer.
Summer looked for long am I;
Much shall change or e’er I die.
Prithee take it not amiss
Though I weary thee with bliss.
Autumn.
Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart, and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems good to me,
Speak the word that sets me free.
Winter.
I am Winter, that do keep
Longing safe amidst of sleep:
Who shall say if I were dead
What should be remembered?
Night.
I am Night: I bring again
Hope of pleasure, rest from pain:
Thoughts unsaid ’twixt Life and Death
My fruitful silence quickeneth.
poem by William Morris
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Death is... A Compilation of Death Poetry
(10/05/2000)
Death is when your loved ones must depart
Death is a sharp pain to the heart
Death is a feeling of permanent sadness & pain
Death is when your loved ones have forever gone away
Death is a call to heaven or hell
Death is an eternal mansion or cell
Death is a lesson to learn about
Death is a loss, without a doubt
Death is an unhappy feeling to have
Death is unpleasant on anyone's behalf
Death is something we all will go through
Death is a storm waiting to brew
Death is a lingering crow always overhead
Death is a soul, done being fed
Death is cruel,
Death is unfair,
Why death?
Does death care?
Death is unkind,
Death breaks hearts,
Why death?
Do you like to part?
Death is here,
Death is there,
Why death?
Why be everywhere?
Death is the end,
Death is to die,
Why death?
To make people cry?
Death was created,
Death is still here,
Why death?
We live in fear,
Death is death,
Death is dead,
Why death?
Because death said.
Death is forever, so don’t flirt with death
Death is painful, so stay away from knifes
Death is not for lovers, so don’t die
Death is not for me, so don’t even try
Death is never clear, so be careful
Death is never fun, so stay away from strangers
Death is never pleasing, so don’t get caught up in the hype
Death is never fair, so get use to it
Death is always occurring, so don’t forget it
Death is never what u expect, so expect the unexpected
Death is not for you, so please don’t give up
Death is forever, so don’t forget that
poem by Shenise Ashmeade
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The City Sings the Song of Death
The City sings the song of Death
Death that roams in the streets
Fearless and merciless, its hands smeared with blood
Its clothes drenched, its desire insatiable
It yearns for more bodies, for more and more
And yet more
The City sings the song of Death
A song whose tragic pitch would scare of birds
Were they to listen to its harrowing cadence
A song that makes babies cry and disturbs the old
A song that is sung by every one who lives in the city of Death
In fear, in pain, in terror
For Death itself has come to life
For Death itself, unchained and unchecked, roams around freely
Who shall now question Death?
The City sings the song of Death
My City sings the song of Death
I too sing the song of Death
And so do the millions that live with me
In the City of Death
poem by Abdul Samad
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Lines written in the Belief that the Ancient Roman Festival of the Dead was called Ambarvalia
Swings the way still by hollow and hill,
And all the world's a song;
'She's far,' it sings me, 'but fair,' it rings me,
'Quiet,' it laughs, 'and strong!'
Oh! spite of the miles and years between us,
Spite of your chosen part,
I do remember; and I go
With laughter in my heart.
So above the little folk that know not,
Out of the white hill-town,
High up I clamber; and I remember;
And watch the day go down.
Gold is my heart, and the world's golden,
And one peak tipped with light;
And the air lies still about the hill
With the first fear of night;
Till mystery down the soundless valley
Thunders, and dark is here;
And the wind blows, and the light goes,
And the night is full of fear,
And I know, one night, on some far height,
In the tongue I never knew,
I yet shall hear the tidings clear
From them that were friends of you.
They'll call the news from hill to hill,
Dark and uncomforted,
Earth and sky and the winds; and I
Shall know that you are dead.
I shall not hear your trentals,
Nor eat your arval bread;
For the kin of you will surely do
Their duty by the dead.
Their little dull greasy eyes will water;
They'll paw you, and gulp afresh.
They'll sniffle and weep, and their thoughts will creep
Like flies on the cold flesh.
They will put pence on your grey eyes,
Bind up your fallen chin,
And lay you straight, the fools that loved you
Because they were your kin.
They will praise all the bad about you,
And hush the good away,
And wonder how they'll do without you,
And then they'll go away.
But quieter than one sleeping,
And stranger than of old,
You will not stir for weeping,
You will not mind the cold;
But through the night the lips will laugh not,
The hands will be in place,
And at length the hair be lying still
About the quiet face.
With snuffle and sniff and handkerchief,
And dim and decorous mirth,
With ham and sherry, they'll meet to bury
The lordliest lass of earth.
The little dead hearts will tramp ungrieving
Behind lone-riding you,
The heart so high, the heart so living,
Heart that they never knew.
I shall not hear your trentals,
Nor eat your arval bread,
Nor with smug breath tell lies of death
To the unanswering dead.
With snuffle and sniff and handkerchief,
The folk who loved you not
Will bury you, and go wondering
Back home. And you will rot.
But laughing and half-way up to heaven,
With wind and hill and star,
I yet shall keep, before I sleep,
Your Ambarvalia.
poem by Rupert Brooke
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Punishment
There never really was a place of sanctity
For you, the mortal entity.
You thought you had prosperity,
The while you thrived and were.
Angels don't exist, you see.
You lived without a guarantee
Atop your brutal Earth.
Still, you had a birth.
And whither now, your crying whim -?
Answered by a tearing limb-?
Are you contrite; your valour slim?
And will He care...?
'Tis down to Him.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter,2009
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
Death has come, has death Death has come, has death
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Conversation With Myself
words & music by jason mraz
Crazy, now whatcha doing?
Just the same, well I think Im right
Crazy how fast youre moving
As our friendship pays for your lonely night
This is a conversation with myself
Its okay to dance around it and have it your way
Laugh about it, oh for goodness sake
Dont believe in anything thats keeping you awake
Im feeling all sentimental and feeling all thru my head
Im feeling all very sexual but feeling all by myself instead
This is a conversation with myself
Its okay to dance around it and have it your way
Laugh about it, oh for goodness sake
Dont believe in anything thats keeping you awake
Loverboy, lovergirl,
You need a song to sleep to and morning to sleep thru
And have it your way.
You better have it your way with yourself.
You better have it your way anytime.
You better have it you way with yourself and only yourself
You better have it yours and baby you know that Ill have mine.
song performed by by Jason Mraz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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