Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, DEATH - ETERNITY'S REALM, by LOUISE L. PANNULLO



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

DEATH - ETERNITY'S REALM, by                    
First Line: Peacefully yonder a million souls did sleep
Last Line: "do I exempt from my field—where eternity I do sow."
Subject(s): Death; Graves; Peace; Rest; Skulls; Dead, The; Tombs; Tombstones


Peacefully yonder a million souls did sleep,
Warmed by the beams of the mystic moon;
When a courageous figure decided to peep
Into the lives of those gone, alas, too soon.
The night was still and all was dark,
Save for a lantern brilliant Luna did hold;
Whilst dangerously above hovered a screeching lark,
"But no—my courage 'tis mine," unto Luna he told.

Close to a grave his steps did make way,
Unto a mound that of a child did speak;
"She was six at death's call," it did say,
"Alas! She would be twenty and one today!
A lover she'd have and bliss untold,
And children, too, without a doubt;
Oh cruel death, why do you gather unto your fold
Those who have labour to do without?"

"Unjust death," the mournful figure did moan
Whilst before another soul he now stood;
For 'twas difficult for him to suppress a groan
When the mound boasted of life taken in motherhood.
His thoughts now roamed to the day when he
Also, unknowingly, had caused his life's death;
"Alas," he groaned, "cruel fates that be
'Tis these cruelties which cause my soul to seethe."

'Twas long the time over that grave he did weep,
Yea, most reluctant he was of it to take leave;
"But unto God do I pray that peacefully you sleep,"
Broke unto these words, a heart that did grieve.
An old man next his attention held sway,
One who had died when senility was deep;
"Those who wept for you could their sorrow allay,
For your work was done—you needed a sleep."

From grave to grave the figure went,
On each and every one his tears he left;
"Oh death—why are you on such evil ways bent,
Why do you leave hearts with grief bereft?"
His eyes into open space stood fixed,
Whilst his hands wrung in a forceful hurt;
When suddenly death in brightness transfixed,
Appeared before him in manner forcefully curt.

"No, no, my friend," Death's jaws soon rattled,
" 'Tis not hearts I do turn into shreds, my own,
'Tis only peace with which my haven is mettled,
Peace for those hearts of life tired grown.
My realm is inhabited by the rich and the poor,
Partialities, moreover, I with none do show;
In my kingdom are white, yellow and moor,
And my reward—joys of heaven or despairs of below."

Cursedly the man knelt to the menacing figure,
Whilst covering his face with his workworn hands;
"Tarry not with a heart with thoughts of your rigor,
Make way, grim Death, unto your own deadly lands;
'Tis cruel you are in your judgments, selfish one,
Surely no heart does beat in your hardened breast;
And Death—though the hearts of all you have won
Never! No! Never shall mine in your kingdom rest!"

Fatal were these words which the figure did speak,
Fatal, alas, for doomed to be his last;
Since Death his skull did skillfully creak,
Words destined no longer his lips to cast.
"Ah, ah, my own," grinned Death to the figure dead,
"Your threat too mighty was, now you do know;
For no life no matter how potently or poorly led
Do I exempt from my field—where eternity I do sow."





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