Death, tho I see him not, is near And grudges me my eightieth year. Now, I would give him all these last For one that fifty have run past. Ah! he strikes all things, all alike, But bargains: those he will not strike. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WALLS DO NOT FALL: 4 by HILDA DOOLITTLE ODE TO MASTER ANTHONY STAFFORD [TO HASTEN HIM INTO COUNTRY] by THOMAS RANDOLPH RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD TO VENETIAN ARTISTS by WILLIAM BLAKE MATRIMONIAL MELODIES: 3. SYSTEM by BERTON BRALEY |