Death In Life

By Madison Julius Cawein

        Within my veins it beats         And burns within my brain;     For when the year is sad and sear         I dream the dream again.         Ah! over young am I         God knows! yet in this sleep     More pain and woe than women know         I know, and doubly deep!...         Seven towers of shaggy rock         Rise red to ragged skies,     Built in a marsh that, black and harsh,         To dead horizons lies.         Eternal sunset pours,         Around its warlock towers,     A glowing urn where garnets burn         With fire-dripping flowers.         O'er bat-like turrets high,         Stretched in a scarlet line,     The crimson cranes through rosy rains         Drop like a ruby wine.         Once in the banquet-hall         These scarlet storks are heard:     I sit at board with men o' th' sword         And knights of noble word;         Cased all in silver mail;         But he, I love and fear,     In glittering gold beside me bold         Sits like a lover near.         Wild music echoes in         The hollow towers there;     Behind bright bars o' his visor, stars         Beam in his eyes and glare.         Wild music oozes from         Arched ceilings, caked with white     Groined pearl; and floors like mythic shores         That sing to seas of light.         Wild music and a feast,         And one's belovd near     In burning mail - why am I pale,         So pale with grief and fear?         Red heavens and slaughter-red         The marsh to west and east;     Seven slits of sky, seven casements high,         Flare on the blood-red feast.         Our torches tall are these,         Our revel torches seven,     That spill from gold soft splendors old         The hour of night, eleven.         No word. The sparkle aches         In cups of diamond-spar,     That prism the light of ruddy white         In royal wines of war.         No word. Rich plate that rays,         Splashes of splitting fires,     Off beryl brims; while sobs and swims         Enchantment of lost lyres.         I lean to him I love,         And in the silence say:     "Would thy dear grace reveal thy face,         If love should crave and pray?"         Grave Silence, like a king,         At that strange feast is set;     Grave Silence still as the soul's will,         That rules the reason yet.         But when I speak, behold!         The charm is snapped, for low     Speaks out the mask o' his golden casque,         "At midnight be it so!"         And Silence waits severe,         Till one sonorous tower,     Owl-swarmed, that looms in glaring glooms,         Sounds slow the midnight hour.         Three strokes; the knights arise,         The palsy from them flung,     To meward mock like some hoarse rock         When wrecking waves give tongue.         Six strokes; and wailing out         The music hoots away;     The fiery glimmer of eve dies dimmer,         The red grows ghostly gray.         Nine strokes; and dropping mould         The crumbling hall is lead;     The plate is rust, the feast is dust,         The banqueters are dead.         Twelve strokes pound out and roll;         The huge walls writhe and shake     O'er hissing things with taloned wings         Christ Jesus, let me wake!         Then rattling in the night         His iron visor slips     In rotting mail a death's-head pale         Kisses my loathing lips.         Two hell-fierce lusts its eyes,         Sharp-pointed like a knife,     That flaming seem to say, "No dream!         No dream! the truth of Life!"

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Poem Details

Language: English
Keywords: Public Domain
Source: Public Domain Collection
Rights/Permissions: Public Domain

Analysis & Notes:
This poem is a dramatic narrative, a dream sequence filled with vivid imagery and deep symbolism. The poet skillfully intertwines themes of love, fear, death, and the passing of time, all against the backdrop of a medieval banquet in a fantastical castle. The tone is largely melancholic and apprehensive, reflecting the speaker's fear, grief, and longing. Yet, there is a sense of mystery and enchantment as well, suggesting a dreamlike state.

The poem's structure is consistent, with a clear rhythm and rhyme scheme that emphasizes the narrative flow. The poet utilizes a variety of literary devices, including personification, alliteration, and simile, to enhance the vividness of the images and the intensity of emotions. For example, the phrase "Grave Silence, like a king" personifies silence to evoke a sense of solemnity and grandeur. Metaphors, such as "Two hell-fierce lusts its eyes, Sharp-pointed like a knife," serve to heighten the sense of danger and dread.

Furthermore, the poem's use of color - particularly red - is striking. The repeated references to red, often associated with passion, violence, and danger, help to establish a tone of urgency and unease. Interestingly, these are juxtaposed against the more serene and beautiful images in the poem, creating a stark contrast that adds depth and complexity to the narrative.

In conclusion, this poem is a rich and complex exploration of human emotions and experiences, told through a dreamlike narrative filled with striking imagery and symbolism. Its skillful blend of the fantastical and the deeply human makes it a captivating read.

Exploring Narrative Poetry

Narrative poetry is a form of poetry that tells a story, often making use of the voices of a narrator and characters as well. Unlike lyric poetry, which focuses on emotions and thoughts, narrative poetry is dedicated to storytelling, weaving tales that captivate readers through plot and character development.


Narrative poems are unique in their ability to combine the depth of storytelling with the expressive qualities of poetry. Here are some defining characteristics:

  • Structured Plot: Narrative poems typically have a clear beginning, middle, and end, following a plot that might involve conflict, climax, and resolution, much like a short story or novel.
  • Character Development: Characters in narrative poems are often well-developed, with distinct voices and personalities that drive the story forward.
  • Descriptive Language: The language used in narrative poetry is vivid and descriptive, painting a clear picture of the scenes and events, while also conveying the emotions and atmosphere of the story.

From ancient epics like "The Iliad" and "The Odyssey" to more modern narrative poems, this form continues to engage readers by blending the art of storytelling with the beauty and rhythm of poetry.