I wage not any feud with Death
      For changes wrought on form and face;
      No lower life that earth's embrace
May breed with him, can fright my faith.

Eternal process moving on,
      From state to state the spirit walks;
      And these are but the shatter'd stalks,
Or ruin'd chrysalis of one.

Nor blame I Death, because he bare
      The use of virtue out of earth:
      I know transplanted human worth
Will bloom to profit, otherwhere.

For this alone on Death I wreak
      The wrath that garners in my heart;
      He put our lives so far apart
We cannot hear each other speak.


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Last modified 16 February 2010