 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
186
DEATH.
Ghastly and weak, O dreadful monarch Death,With failing feet I near thy silent realm,
Upon my brain strikes chill thine icy breath,
My fluttering heart thy terrors overwhelm:
Thou sullen pilot of life's crazy bark,
How treacherously thou puttest down the helm
Just where smooth eddies hide the sunken rock;
While close behind follows the hungry shark
Snuffing his meal from far, swift with black fin
The foam dividing,—ha! that sudden shock
Splits my frail skiff; upon the billows dark
A drowning wretch awhile struggling I float,
Till, just as I had hoped the wreck to win,
I feel thy bony fingers clutch my throat.
| Three Hundred Sonnets | |