Looking For A Poem
(6/11/2013 11:15:00 AM)
If Death should say: 'I offer you
A robe of earth, a crown of dew,
Communion with the root of things
And the knowledge of the blossomings
Of rose or weed or meadow rue, '
I think that I should go content
To his enormous tenement.
But Death says this: It's time to go,
I offer you the dark, the flow
Of silence, and imprisonment
In endless time. Forget the rose,
And every other thing that grows,
And every sound and every sight;
Come with me into the night.'
And I must follow, as he knows