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The saddest of all the Muses must be Melpomene,   for
she is the goddess that inspires the lore of tragedy.

Some examples can be found here:


One More Fortunate by Conal O'Riordan, a short account
of the author's acquaintance with a WWI poet-soldier
who wrote renowned anti-war poetry from his own
experience, before his death in combat.  


Another eye-opening, heart-rending glimpse into the soul
of Harriet Beecher Stowe, the multi-faceted writer and
activist, is shown in this poem.


Pietro Bembo laments on the loss of his friend here.


A mournful poem from the Renaissance,


and a 19th century poem equally sad is also here,


there is also a short, short story called The Maelstrom.


More Elizabethan angst, by  Francis Quarles.


Another story that proves the power of good literature:
The Cypress Crown by  La Motte Fouque translated from
the French by an anonymous or uncredited Dutch
translator.   The translation is a literal one, but despite
the minor awkwardness (although it does add  interest)
of some of the phrasing, the story is still well told and
evocative.   It is proof that a great story can transcend
language differences.  The meaning here is not  'lost in
translation' --  still eerie, still gloomy, still sad.


The White Wolf of Kostopchin by Sir Gilbert Campbell is
a short story from the early 1900's that Melpomene
would be proud of.


The ancient tale of doomed lovers, told best by Luigi da
Porto, 16th century soldier-poet,  in La Giulietta,
translated by Thomas Roscoe.


The Haunted Ships, by Allen Cunningham.


To Weep Irish, a poem by Lionel Johnson.


Dead Love, by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Oh me, oh my!  Walt Whitman wrote a collection of
poems called Memories of Abraham Lincoln.  The two
best are these:  O Captain! My Captain! and The Wound-
dresser.


Rustic Chivalry by Giovanni Verga, a 19th century short
tragedy.  The translator from the Italian of  Cavalleria
Rusticana is unattributed as well -- another sort of
tragedy.

A sad, sad poem, Carcassonne, by M. E. W. Sherwood.

A Lament by Sir William Davenant (17th Century).


        THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD.


    PRESERVE thy sighs, unthrifty girl.
         To purify the air;
    Thy tears to thread, instead of pearl,
         On bracelets of thy hair.


    The trumpet makes the echo hoarse,
        And wakes the louder drum;
    Expense of grief gains no remorse
         When sorrow should be dumb:


    For I must go where lazy Peace
        Will hide her drowsy head,
    And, for the sport of kings, increase
         The number of the dead.


    But first I'll chide thy cruel theft:
         Can I in war delight
    Who, being of my heart bereft,
         Can have no heart to fight?


    Thou know'st the sacred laws of old
         Ordained a thief should pay,
    To quit him of his theft, sevenfold
         What he had stol'n away.


    Thy payment shall but double be:
         O then with speed resign
    My own seduced heart to me
         Accompanied with thine.



This poem was modernized by A. H. Bullen, from Musa
Proterva: Love-Poems of he Restoration; London: privately
printed; 1889, pp. 6-7.


The ultimate tragico-spooky poem of lost love:
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.