Such, Such Is Death
Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat:Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean,A merciful putting away of what has been.
And this we know: Death is not Life, effete,Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seenSo marvellous things know well the end not yet.
Victor and vanquished are a-one in death:Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say,"Come, what was your record when you drew breath?"But a big blot has hid each yesterdaySo poor, so manifestly incomplete.And your bright Promise, withered long and sped,Is touched, stirs, rises, opens and grows sweetAnd blossoms and is you, when you are dead.
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