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Poem by James Henry Leigh Hunt


Death


Death is a road our dearest friends have gone;
Why with such leaders, fear to say, "Lead on?"
Its gate repels, lest it too soon be tried,
But turns in balm on the immortal side.
Mothers have passed it: fathers, children; men
Whose like we look not to behold again;
Women that smiled away their loving breath;
Soft is the travelling on the road to death!
But guilt has passed it? men not fit to die?
O, hush -- for He that made us all is by!
Human we're all -- all men, all born of mothers;
All our own selves in the worn-out shape of others;
Our used, and oh, be sure, not to be ill-used brothers! 



James Henry Leigh Hunt


James Henry Leigh Hunt's other poems:
  1. Robin Hood, a Child
  2. A Thought or Two on Reading Pomfret's
  3. Ariadne Waking
  4. Bellman's Verses for 1814
  5. Walcheren Expedition


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Hood Death ("It is not death, that sometime in a sigh")
  • William Yeats Death ("Nor dread nor hope attend")
  • John Clare Death ("Why should man's high aspiring mind")
  • George Herbert Death ("Death, thou wast once an uncouth hideous thing")
  • Henry Vaughan Death ("'TIS a sad Land, that in one day")
  • Thomas MacDonagh Death ("Life is a boon - and death, as spirit and flesh are twain")
  • Madison Cawein Death ("THROUGH some strange sense of sight or touch")

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