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 WRECK OF THE CIRCUS TRAIN by HAYDEN CARRUTH HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN I LOOKED FOR LIFE AND DID A SHADOW SEE by JAMES GALVIN THE REVEALER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ASPIRATIONS OF A COUNTRY LAD by GEORGE SANTAYANA |