did acred Lord," Stevenson has found an original description, whether we interpret the phrase as referring to cemeteries—or "God's acres," as they used to be called—or whether we think of Death as master of all the earth.
The concluding stanza in which Stevenson disavows fear of the kiss of Death is of special interest, since, from early childhood he was always consciously within its shadow.
DEATH
We are as maidens one and all,
In some shut convent place,
Pleased with the flowers, the service bells,
The cloister's shady grace,
That whiles, with fearful, fluttering hearts,
Look outward thro the grate
And down the long white road, up which,
Some morning, soon or late,
Shall canter ort his great grey horse
That splendid acred Lord
Who comes to lead us forth—his wife,
But half with our accord.
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