Saturday, September 6, 2008

O Death

O Death, my comforter art Thou,
The healer of my wounds enow,
Thy yielding glance do I beseech
And for Thy soothing hand I reach.

I yearn for Thee, years pass me by,
Thou comest not, but from my cry
I hear an echo o'er the hill,
'A sacred duty first fulfil'.

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