Poems that have a death?

FAREWELL by Emily Dickinson

Death by Khalil Gibran (The Prophet)

THE JOURNEY by Emily Dickinson

Life and Death by Walt Whitman

JOY IN DEATH by Emily Dickinson

DYING by Emily Dickinson

The last night that she lived by Emily Dickinson

If I should die by Emily Dickinson

MEMORIALS by Emily Dickinson

All Things will Die by Lord Alfred Tennyson

TILL THE END by Emily Dickinson

Wake by Langston Hughes

ASLEEP by Emily Dickinson

TO A DEAD MAN by Carl Sandburg

Epitaph by Robert Service

To One Shortly to Die by Walt Whitman

GRACELAND by Carl Sandburg (CHICAGO)

On this long storm the rainbow rose by Emily Dickinson

THE FUNERAL - That short, potential stir by Emily Dickinson

Death is a dialogue between by Emily Dickinson

and many more - http://www.quotesandpoem.com/poems/SelectedPoetryT...

There are a ton of them. Here are some off the top o' the head:

"Richard Cory" -- Edwin Arlington Robinson

"The Death of the Hired Man" -- Robert Frost

"Out, Out---" -- Robert Frost

"The Death of the Ball-Turret Gunner" -- Randall Jarrell

His coat it hung upon the wall

The room looked empty cold and small

He sat and thought there for a while

Then on his face appeared a smile

Looking at some photographs

of them together having laughs

He thought of the night when they first met

The park.... the bench where they had sat

Their first embrace how good she smelt

That first kiss the way it felt

But now he sits here all alone

not a sound not a moan

The clock tells him its time to leave

to take some flowers up to Eve

I think The Lady of Shallot does! I thnk its by Tennyson.

Also Stop all the Clocks by W H Auden

The Highwayman

The wreck of the Hesperus

Romeo and Juliet

TellTale Heart

Her hair was up in a pony tail,

her favorite dress tied with a bow.

Today was Daddy's Day at school,

and she couldn't wait to go.

But her mommy tried to tell her,

that she probably should stay home.

Why the kids might not understand,

if she went to school alone.

But she was not afraid;

she knew just what to say.

What to tell her classmates

of why he wasn't there today.

But still her mother worried,

for her to face this day alone.

And that was why once again,

she tried to keep her daughter home.

But the little girl went to school,

eager to tell them all.

About a dad she never sees,

a dad who never calls.

There were daddies along the wall in back,

for everyone to meet.

Children squirming impatiently,

anxious in their seats.

One by one the teacher called,

a student from the class.

To introduce their daddy,

as seconds slowly passed.

At last the teacher called her name,

every child turned to stare.

Each of them was searching,

for a man who wasn't there.

"Where's her daddy at?"

she heard a boy call out.

"She probably doesn't have one,"

another student dared to shout.

And from somewhere near the back,

she heard a daddy say,

"Looks like another deadbeat dad,

too busy to waste his day."

The words did not offend her,

as she smiled up at her Mom.

And looked back at her teacher,

who told her to go on.

And with hands behind her back,

slowly she began to speak.

And out from the mouth of a child,

came words incredibly unique.

"My Daddy couldn't be here,

because he lives so far away.

But I know he wishes he could be,

since this is such a special day.

And though you cannot meet him,

I wanted you to know.

All about my daddy,

and how much he loves me so.

He loved to tell me stories,

he taught me to ride my bike.

He surprised me with pink roses,

and taught me to fly a kite.

We used to share fudge sundaes,

and ice cream in a cone.

And though you cannot see him,

I'm not standing here alone.

'Cause my daddy's always with me,

even though we are apart

I know because he told me,

he'll forever be in my heart"

With that, her little hand reached up,

and lay across her chest.

Feeling her own heartbeat,

beneath her favorite dress.

And from somewhere in the crowd of dads,

her mother stood in tears.

Proudly watching her daughter,

who was wise beyond her years.

For she stood up for the love

of a man not in her life.

Doing what was best for her,

doing what was right.

And when she dropped her hand back down,

staring straight into the crowd.

She finished with a voice so soft,

but its message clear and loud.

"I love my daddy very much,

he's my shining star.

And if he could, he'd be here,

but heaven's just too far.

You see he was a fireman

and died just this past year

When airplanes hit the towers

and taught Americans to fear.

But sometimes when I close my eyes,

it's like he never went away."

And then she closed her eyes,

and saw him there that day.

And to her mother's amazement,

she witnessed with surprise.

A room full of daddies and children,

all starting to close their eyes.

Who knows what they saw before them,

who knows what they felt inside.

Perhaps for merely a second,

they saw him at her side.

"I know you're with me Daddy,"

to the silence she called out.

And what happened next made believers,

of those once filled with doubt.

Not one in that room could explain it,

for each of their eyes had been closed.

But there on the desk beside her,

was a fragrant long-stemmed pink rose.

And a child was blessed, if only for a moment,

by the love of her shining bright star.

And given the gift of believing,

that heaven is never too far..

no poem is immortal they also do die normally

'The Highwayman' by Alfred Noyes.

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,

The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,

And the highwayman came riding-

Riding-riding-

The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,

A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;

They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!

And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,

His pistol butts a-twinkle,

His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,

And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;

He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there

But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked

Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;

His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,

But he loved the landlord's daughter,

The landlord's red-lipped daughter,

Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,

But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,

Then look for me by moonlight,

Watch for me by moonlight,

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,

But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;

And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)

Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;

And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,

When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,

A red-coat troop came marching-

Marching-marching-

King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,

But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!

There was death at every window;

And hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;

They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!

"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.

She heard the dead man say-

Look for me by moonlight;

Watch for me by moonlight;

I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!

She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like

years,

Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,

Cold, on the stroke of midnight,

The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!

Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,

She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;

For the road lay bare in the moonlight;

Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs

ringing clear;

Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did

not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding,

Riding, riding!

The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night!

Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!

Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,

Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her musket shattered the moonlight,

Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood

Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!

Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear

How Bess, the landlord's daughter,

The landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,

With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!

Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,

When they shot him down on the highway,

Down like a dog on the highway,

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,

When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,

A highwayman comes riding-

Riding-riding-

A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,

And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;

He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there

But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter,

Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.