I met with Death in his country, With his scythe and his hollow eye, Walking the roads of Belgium. I looked and he passed me by. Since he passed me by in Plug Street, In the wood of the evil name, I shall not now lie with the heroes, I shall not share their fame; I shall never be as they are, A name in the lands of the Free, Since I looked on Death in Flanders And he did not look at me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 4. THE MORAL by KAREN SWENSON FAREWELL TO LOVE by JOHN DONNE MILES KEOGH'S HORSE by JOHN MILTON HAY THE BUGLER'S FIRST COMMUNION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS HAIL COLUMBIA by JOSEPH HOPKINSON |