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Poem	When I was bold, when I was bold- And that's a hundred years!- Oh, never I thought my breast could hold The terrible weight of tears. I said: "Now some be dolorous; I hear them wail and sigh, And if it be Love that play them thus, Then never a love will I." I said: "I see them rack and rue, I see them wring and ache, And little I'll crack my heart in two With little the heart can break." When I was gay, when I was gay- It's ninety years and nine!- Oh, never I thought that Death could lay His terrible hand in mine. I said: "He plies his trade among The musty and infirm; A body so hard and bright and young Could never be meat for worm." "I see him dull their eyes," I said, "And still their rattling breath. And how under God could I be dead That never was meant for Death?" But Love came by, to quench my sleep, And here's my sundered heart; And bitter's my woe, and black, and deep, And little I guessed a part. Yet this there is to cool my breast, And this to ease my spell; Now if I were Love's, like all the rest, Then can I be Death's, as well. And he shall have me, sworn and bound, And I'll be done with Love. And better I'll be below the ground Than ever I'll be above.
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