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A Conversation with Death

I have looked at death and said,
But it is not time.
And death looked beyond me and asked,
But if not now when?
When life is a husk was my reply.

Death looked at me,
With wires and tubes,
And mirth burst forth,
The question asked,
That is not now?

No, was my reply.
Life yet pulses and desire is strong.
So death reposed upon the sill
And not unkind replied,
But rest is peaceful and sublime
With no more doubts or pains or lies.

This may be true, was my reply;
But who but you would be served?
Is true he chuckled,
You found me out,
But mine you will be,
Just not this time.

--Georgina Brownell