You will not know me when I come, or hear

A sound, or feel my shadow as I pass

And touch you, leaving sudden cold and fear

Like secret slipping of a snake in grass.

I have no certain form that men may know;

They will not lean to penetrate my guise.

It matters not how gently I may come, and slow,

My coming is a quick and chill surprise.

Whatever suffering I still or joy,

Whatever tender love and eager hopes

Of man and woman other, girl and boy

Are stopped as even plans of kings and popes,

All mortals must at last receive my kiss;

Life has no end for each man more than this.

There is no end of body and it's ways

Other than this. Man's plots and planning must

Go back to earth again, and all his days

Be done, and all his blood and sighs be dust.

Yet will men weep because I take away

The frailty of their bodies and lay bare

Their pitiful bones, and drive their poor clay

Back again to the water, earth, and air.

Then will men learn they need not fear my kiss,

The chance of having or not having breath?

This is not life and even I know this,

Who a compassionate and tender Death.

That mortal is immortal man who sends

A spirit down the age in heart of friends.