If Reaping Would Have Its Wishes.

Poems & People

To the angel of reaping that stares at me now
and the raven that stalks on its shoulder,
“I wish not to live on, if thou could know how
judge I do not for thy gaze growing colder”
Here! takest my limbs, takest my prison, even the flesh of my brow
but leavest my heart, and too my soul, for myself and my love to grow older.
Asketh do providence, O stand but a moment, not an eternal eon allow
for now I beseech it to let me do stay, my arms are longing to hold her!
O parting has dawned, with so much unsaid, and time has taken a vow
so I closeth my eyes, hoping for hope, that a passing wind shall have told her.

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