Before the Hourglass

If Death should say: "I offer you

A robe of earth, a crown of dew,

Communion with the roots of things

And friendship with the blossomings

Of violet and meadow-rue,"

I think that I would find content

In going to his tenement.

But Death says this: "It's time to go.

I offer you the dark, the flow

Of silence, and imprisonment

In clay." He says: "Life nears its close-

Forget the blossom and the rose,

Forget the things of sound and light,

Come walk with me into the night."

And I must follow-this he knows.