Famous Short Horror Poems
Famous Short Horror Poems. Short Horror Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Horror short poems
by
Emily Dickinson
What Soft -- Cherubic Creatures --
These Gentlewomen are --
One would as soon assault a Plush --
Or violate a Star --
Such Dimity Convictions --
A Horror so refined
Of freckled Human Nature --
Of Deity -- ashamed --
It's such a common -- Glory --
A Fisherman's -- Degree --
Redemption -- Brittle Lady --
Be so -- ashamed of Thee --
by
Emily Dickinson
The Loneliness One dare not sound --
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size --
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see --
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny --
The Horror not to be surveyed --
But skirted in the Dark --
With Consciousness suspended --
And Being under Lock --
I fear me this -- is Loneliness --
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate -- or seal --
by
Siegfried Sassoon
Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on--on--and out of sight.
Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;
And beauty came like the setting sun:
My heart was shaken with tears; and horror
Drifted away .
.
.
O, but Everyone
Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done.
by
Emily Dickinson
Two Lengths has every Day --
Its absolute extent
And Area superior
By Hope or Horror lent --
Eternity will be
Velocity or Pause
At Fundamental Signals
From Fundamental Laws.
To die is not to go --
On Doom's consummate Chart
No Territory new is staked --
Remain thou as thou art.
by
Omar Khayyam
In the mosque, in the medresseh [school annexed to
the mosque], in the church, and in the synagogue, they
have a horror of Hell and seek for Paradise, but the seed
of such disquiet never germinates in the hearts of those
who penetrate the secrets of the All-Powerful.
by
Thomas Edward Brown
SHE knelt upon her brother's grave,
My little girl of six years old--
He used to be so good and brave,
The sweetest lamb of all our fold;
He used to shout, he used to sing,
Of all our tribe the little king--
And so unto the turf her ear she laid,
To hark if still in that dark place he play'd.
No sound! no sound!
Death's silence was profound;
And horror crept
Into her aching heart, and Dora wept.
If this is as it ought to be,
My God, I leave it unto Thee.
by
Emily Dickinson
That after Horror -- that 'twas us --
That passed the mouldering Pier --
Just as the Granite Crumb let go --
Our Savior, by a Hair --
A second more, had dropped too deep
For Fisherman to plumb --
The very profile of the Thought
Puts Recollection numb --
The possibility -- to pass
Without a Moment's Bell --
Into Conjecture's presence --
Is like a Face of Steel --
That suddenly looks into ours
With a metallic grin --
The Cordiality of Death --
Who drills his Welcome in --
by
Robert Burns
Chorus—Long, long the night,
Heavy comes the morrow
While my soul’s delight
Is on her bed of sorrow.
CAN I cease to care?
Can I cease to languish,
While my darling Fair
Is on the couch of anguish?
Long, long, &c.
Ev’ry hope is fled,
Ev’ry fear is terror,
Slumber ev’n I dread,
Ev’ry dream is horror.
Long, long, &c.
Hear me, Powers Divine!
Oh, in pity, hear me!
Take aught else of mine,
But my Chloris spare me!
Long, long, &c.