Elizabeth Wesley Poet Pastoral

Death Is Kind

When the bending sickle of a silver moon,
Floats with the fleeting moth too soon;
Then let us strum the golden lyre,
With poesy for flames of fire.
Let not the dreadful words of doom,
Fade away the rose's bloom;
But pass thro sun and candle light,
To shine on day and the night.

A head that’s crowned with rimy frost,
Has found a soul that is lost;
And looking at eternity,
We have two eyes that cannot see.
But as the reaper comes to reap,
Closing eyes in eternal sleep,
To forgive a troubled mind,
Then know that death is always kind.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Honestly J.T. August 12, 2013 at 1:08 PM Nicely done. This is a good read

The Situation December 28, 2012 at 5:47 PM Most people don't know what withdrawal is. I have been given a taste so I know what it is. Haven been given warning that the beast withdrawal was comming; I had to prepare for... one day I told April that I was already going to have to accept her death.she went silent. We both knew after that.

Keith Bickerstaffe July 7, 2012 at 11:03 AM A masterful composition. '...the bending sickle of a silver moon,' such a beautiful image. So well rhymed and 'flowed'! :))

Michelle Mac Donald May 28, 2012 at 7:40 PM Well, I wanted to start at the beginning, Elizabeth! Here there is strong metaphor and imagery, somehow I'm not surprised! :) You've given a postive angle to something we fear. I don't know how it is in your neck of the woods, but it feels chilly here! My daughter is in Kitchener, I think it had been unbearably hot today. Best wishes!!! Love, Mikki

James Peranteau April 29, 2012 at 5:07 AM Moving write here dear poet ! And a lil' sump'n sump'n Elizabeth; I always have the notion that death is a blessing on this earth ! Have a good one ! Much love, james

Robert A. Dufresne October 12, 2011 at 9:36 PM a pastoral poem to contemplate. At times it seems that several loved ones pass on in a short period of time. This is one of those times for me....which drew me to this poem and rightfully so because for them at least death was surely kind. Jove the way your lines lend one to muse. Also love being the first to comment on some of your poems that have been lying here hidden in the field of dreams.... feel like I have found buried treasure!