 | English Roses |  |
468
THE FRIEND OF MAN.
I love to feel the shadows near and dropping closer round,
And worms with cold caresses drear—it is a pleasant sound.
O joy, to know the sexton Time is scooping out my grave,
And digging from the dust and grime the cell my bones will pave!
His greedy pick is hard at toil, and deepening as it likes;
And when it breaks the sullen soil, in every hour it strikes.
And worms with cold caresses drear—it is a pleasant sound.
O joy, to know the sexton Time is scooping out my grave,
And digging from the dust and grime the cell my bones will pave!
His greedy pick is hard at toil, and deepening as it likes;
And when it breaks the sullen soil, in every hour it strikes.
Why should I be afraid of Death, who ever to his law
Am witness in each weary breath of labour that I draw?
Moment by moment something flies that waxed with tardy pain,
Moment by moment something dies that shall not be again.
Unless I daily die in flesh, and of my substance give
For bioplasts to weave afresh, I may not, must not live.
Am witness in each weary breath of labour that I draw?
Moment by moment something flies that waxed with tardy pain,
Moment by moment something dies that shall not be again.
Unless I daily die in flesh, and of my substance give
For bioplasts to weave afresh, I may not, must not live.
Death is no stranger presence new with doings veiled and dim,
For with my growing frame he grew and I am known to him.
He is my oldest dearest friend and shared my every pace,
The earliest seen and to the end the most familiar face.
We both ate from a common plate and lay within one bed,
Bound tightly by no differing fate and by each other fed.
For with my growing frame he grew and I am known to him.
He is my oldest dearest friend and shared my every pace,
The earliest seen and to the end the most familiar face.
We both ate from a common plate and lay within one bed,
Bound tightly by no differing fate and by each other fed.
469
And so I love the merry strife of darkness and decay,
That show the partners death and life are never far away.
I hear the music as they meet with more than bridal kiss,
And play in rapture swift and sweet above the mute abyss.
I love to see the ruin sport about the base of night,
That nearer rocks my wreck to Port—it is a pleasant sight.
That show the partners death and life are never far away.
I hear the music as they meet with more than bridal kiss,
And play in rapture swift and sweet above the mute abyss.
I love to see the ruin sport about the base of night,
That nearer rocks my wreck to Port—it is a pleasant sight.
| English Roses | |