Looking on a page where stood Graven of old on old-world wood Death, and by the grave's edge grim, Pale, the young man facing him, Asked my well-beloved of me Once what strange thing this might be, Gaunt and great of limb. Death, I told him: and surprise Deepening more his wildwood eyes (Like some sweet fleet thing's whose breath Speaks all spring though nought it saith), Up he turned his rosebright face Glorious with its seven years' grace, Asking -- What is death? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MILITARY PROGRESS by MARIANNE MOORE THE VOLUNTEER by HERBERT HENRY ASQUITH THANATOPSIS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT TIME, REAL AND IMAGINARY; AN ALLEGORY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A GIRL'S GARDEN by ROBERT FROST THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY COUNTRY DOCTOR by DANA KNEELAND AKERS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 14. THE POWERFUL ATTRACTION by PHILIP AYRES |