Poesy

Death

Death is here and death is there,Death is busy everywhere,All around, within, beneath,Above is death--and we are death.

Death has set his mark and sealOn all we are and all we feel,On all we know and all we fear,

...

First our pleasures die--and thenOur hopes, and then our fears--and whenThese are dead, the debt is due,Dust claims dust--and we die too.

All things that we love and cherish,Like ourselves must fade and perish;Such is our rude mortal lot--Love itself would, did they not.

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