The Oxford Book of DeathDennis Joseph Enright Oxford University Press, 1983 - 351 psl. "Reading for this anthology," writes D.J. Enright, "I was moved to the thought that on no theme have writers shown themselves more lively." A survivor of Belsen voiced the same sentiment when, reflecting on the concentration camps, he wrote, "When in death we are in the midst of life." By turns poignant, tragic, comic, and inspiring, this anthology of thoughts about death ranges from ancient times to the present day--including almost 900 selections by poets, novelists, philosophers, scientists, and common people. Arranged under headings such as "Love," "War," "Last Words," and "Children," these selections show the varied, sometimes surprising, reactions of the dying and the bereaved to the final human act. |
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214 psl.
... walk the night ; And for the day confin'd to fast in fires , Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are ... walks of Devils , prompting and suggesting us unto mischief , blood , and villainy ; instilling and stealing into our ...
... walk the night ; And for the day confin'd to fast in fires , Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Are ... walks of Devils , prompting and suggesting us unto mischief , blood , and villainy ; instilling and stealing into our ...
216 psl.
... walking On Montmartre with Pauline . With a crown of everlastings Come to decorate and sigh Pauvre homme ! to my grave , Sadness welling in her eye . Pity , I live too high up And I can't produce a seat For my darling here . Oh , she's ...
... walking On Montmartre with Pauline . With a crown of everlastings Come to decorate and sigh Pauvre homme ! to my grave , Sadness welling in her eye . Pity , I live too high up And I can't produce a seat For my darling here . Oh , she's ...
244 psl.
... walking all alone , beneath a yew , And talking to himself , first met his sight : ' You must begone , ' said Death , ' these walks are mine . ' Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight ; Yet ere he parted said , " This hour is ...
... walking all alone , beneath a yew , And talking to himself , first met his sight : ' You must begone , ' said Death , ' these walks are mine . ' Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight ; Yet ere he parted said , " This hour is ...
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A. E. Housman Alistair Elliot Arthur Waley asked believe bird body breath buried child coffin Collected Poems Copyright Czesław Miłosz D. J. Enright dark dead dear death died dying earth Epitaph eternal eyes Faber & Faber Faber Ltd face fear feel flowers friends funeral ghosts grave grief H. T. Lowe-Porter hand hath head hear heart heaven Hell human immortality John kill Kleinzeit Knopf Inc leave letter live look Lord Michael Hamburger mind mother mourning N. J. Dawood nature never night Oxford University Press pain Penguin Books Ltd permission of Faber permission of Oxford pleasure poor Reprinted by permission sleep smile sorrow soul spirit suicide sweet Sylvia Townsend Warner talk Ted Hughes tell thee things Thomas thou thought tomb trans W. S. Merwin walk weeping words young