The Chosen

DEATH pitying stood before one bent and old,And said:—"Forbear your griefs, and go with me:The tale of your misfortunes—all is told,And I am come at last to set you free."

But, lo! the man fell trembling to his knees,Affrighted, and entreating in sad plight:—"Though poverty and pain deny me ease,Yet spare me!—but a day—a single night!"

Then Death, disdaining misery so base,Turned, silently, and sought whom life held dear.He found you, my belovèd! in the placeYou glorified, and touched you with his spear;

And as one startled wakes from a fair dreamHe fain would dream again, if that might be,You looked on Death clothed in his might supreme,And gave yourself to him,—forgetting me.

All beauteous in the blossom-time of youth,Ere yet a cloud your radiance could dim,—You knew him for God's messenger, in truth,And like an angel, went away with him.