I HAVE a rendezvous with Death |
At some disputed barricade, |
When Spring comes back with rustling shade |
And apple-blossoms fill the air— |
I have a rendezvous with Death |
When Spring brings back blue days and fair. |
It may be he shall take my hand |
And lead me into his dark land |
And close my eyes and quench my breath— |
It may be I shall pass him still. |
I have a rendezvous with Death |
On some scarred slope of battered hill |
When Spring comes round again this year |
And the first meadow-flowers appear. |
God knows ’twere better to be deep |
Pillowed in silk and scented down, |
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep, |
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, |
Where hushed awakenings are dear … |
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death |
At midnight in some flaming town, |
When Spring trips north again this year, |
And I to my pledged word am true, |
I shall not fail that rendezvous. - Alan Seeger (1888–1916) |
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
I have a Rendezvous with Death
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