Death
The ghostly wraith draws ever close,
He holds his hourglass high
The sands run steady in his glass,
The end is drawing nigh.
I know there is no Heaven,
And surely there’s no Hell,
And so whatever happens,
Will do me very well.
The end is coming closer,
But I don’t have a fear.
For me it holds no terror,
Life ripens year by year.
My youthful dreams all came to pass;
There’s nothing that I lack.
Now nearly five-score years, I know
I’m never coming back.
What will ensue, I used to ask;
What will then appear?
Exactly how it used to be
Before I landed here.
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