CONVERSATION WITH DEATH

 

Conversation with Death

 

You are not blind to my sight O pestilence foul

there the skulking malice, the dread black cowl,

a wrathful Shade haunting Earth in many a guise,

with your capricious scythe and cold callous eyes

Yet I fear not your final summons frightful knave,

for I know life not ends and I’ll transgress the grave.

 

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