Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership


See and share Beautiful Nature Photos and amazing photos of interesting places




Famous Short Grave Poems. Short Grave Poetry by Famous Poets

Famous Short Grave Poems. Short Grave Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Grave short poems

See also: Best Famous Short Poems | Short Member Poems | Best Short Member Poems | Top 100 Famous Short Poems

12
 
by Emily Dickinson

Within thy Grave!

 Within thy Grave!
Oh no, but on some other flight --
Thou only camest to mankind
To rend it with Good night --


by Emily Dickinson

The Stimulus beyond the Grave

 The Stimulus, beyond the Grave
His Countenance to see
Supports me like imperial Drams
Afforded Day by Day.


by Emily Dickinson

The immortality she gave

 The immortality she gave
We borrowed at her Grave --
For just one Plaudit famishing,
The Might of Human love --


by Emily Dickinson

How fortunate the Grave --

 How fortunate the Grave --
All Prizes to obtain --
Successful certain, if at last,
First Suitor not in vain.


by Robert Burns

471. Epigram on Jessy Staig’s recovery

 MAXWELL, if merit here you crave,
 That merit I deny;
You save fair Jessie from the grave!—
 An Angel could not die!


by Kobayashi Issa

Windy fall

 At my daughter's grave, thirty days
after her death:

 Windy fall--
 these are the scarlet flowers
 she liked to pick.


by Emily Dickinson

Back from the cordial Grave I drag thee

 Back from the cordial Grave I drag thee
He shall not take thy Hand
Nor put his spacious arm around thee
That none can understand


by Ambrose Bierce

An Inscription

 A conqueror as provident as brave,
He robbed the cradle to supply the grave.
His reign laid quantities of human dust: He fell upon the just and the unjust.


by Sidney Lanier

Struggle

 My soul is like the oar that momently
Dies in a desperate stress beneath the wave,
Then glitters out again and sweeps the sea:
Each second I'm new-born from some new grave.


by Emily Dickinson

More than the Grave is closed to me --

 More than the Grave is closed to me --
The Grave and that Eternity
To which the Grave adheres --
I cling to nowhere till I fall --
The Crash of nothing, yet of all --
How similar appears --


by Emily Dickinson

Advance is Lifes condition

 Advance is Life's condition
The Grave but a Relay
Supposed to be a terminus
That makes it hated so --

The Tunnel is not lighted
Existence with a wall
Is better we consider
Than not exist at all --


by Emily Dickinson

Not any sunny tone

 Not any sunny tone
From any fervent zone
Find entrance there --
Better a grave of Balm
Toward human nature's home --
And Robins near --
Than a stupendous Tomb
Proclaiming to the Gloom
How dead we are --


by Robert Burns

453. Epitaph for Mr. Walter Riddell

 SIC a reptile was Wat, sic a miscreant slave,
That the worms ev’n d—d him when laid in his grave;
“In his flesh there’s a famine,” a starved reptile cries,
“And his heart is rank poison!” another replies.


by Emily Dickinson

This docile one inter

 This docile one inter
While we who dare to live
Arraign the sunny brevity
That sparkled to the Grave.
On her departing span No wilderness remain As dauntless in the House of Death As if it were her own --


by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

EPITAPH.

 As a boy, reserved and naughty;
As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty;
As a man, for action inclined;
As a greybeard, fickle in mind.
-- Upon thy grave will people read: This was a very man, indeed! 1815.
*


by Emily Dickinson

The grave my little cottage is

 The grave my little cottage is,
Where "Keeping house" for thee
I make my parlor orderly
And lay the marble tea.
For two divided, briefly, A cycle, it may be, Till everlasting life unite In strong society.


by Emily Dickinson

Perhaps you think me stooping

 Perhaps you think me stooping
I'm not ashamed of that
Christ -- stooped until He touched the Grave --
Do those at Sacrament

Commemorative Dishonor
Or love annealed of love
Until it bend as low as Death
Redignified, above?


by Emily Dickinson

Not any higher stands the Grave

 Not any higher stands the Grave
For Heroes than for Men --
Not any nearer for the Child
Than numb Three Score and Ten --

This latest Leisure equal lulls
The Beggar and his Queen
Propitiate this Democrat
A Summer's Afternoon --


by Ezra Pound

Statement of Being

 I am a grave poetic hen
That lays poetic eggs
And to enhance my temperament
A little quiet begs.
We make the yolk philosophy, True beauty the albumen.
And then gum on a shell of form To make the screed sound human.


by Emily Dickinson

As plan for Noon and plan for Night

 As plan for Noon and plan for Night
So differ Life and Death
In positive Prospective --
The Foot upon the Earth

At Distance, and Achievement, strains,
The Foot upon the Grave
Makes effort at conclusion
Assisted faint of Love.


by Emily Dickinson

So give me back to Death --

 So give me back to Death --
The Death I never feared
Except that it deprived of thee --
And now, by Life deprived,
In my own Grave I breathe
And estimate its size --
Its size is all that Hell can guess --
And all that Heaven was --


by Sarah Fuller Flower Adams

Love

O Love! thou makest all things even 
In earth or heaven; 
Finding thy way through prison-bars 
Up to the stars; 
Or, true to the Almighty plan, 
That out of dust created man, 
Thou lookest in a grave,--to see 
Thine immortality! 


by Sarah Fuller Flower Adams

O Love! Thou Makest All Things Even

O Love! thou makest all things even 
In earth or heaven; 
Finding thy way through prison-bars 
Up to the stars; 
Or, true to the Almighty plan, 
That out of dust created man, 
Thou lookest in a grave,--to see 
Thine immortality! 


by Emily Dickinson

Still own thee -- still thou art

 Still own thee -- still thou art
What surgeons call alive --
Though slipping -- slipping I perceive
To thy reportless Grave --

Which question shall I clutch --
What answer wrest from thee
Before thou dost exude away
In the recallless sea?


by Robert Herrick

TO LAURELS

 A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.


12