Poems (Hinchman)/O lusty Death, why have men call'd thee pale
XXVII
O lusty Death, why have men call'd thee pale,
Spoke thee a shade, a gatherer of the fallen?
Thou greedy Death! Had thy food only been
The feeble and the old, then might thy bones
Rattle against thy starv'd unsupple skin,
And thy swift arm hang unnerv'd at thy side.
But thou dost feed on babies and on maids
Plump with the ruddy freshness of their youth;
Strong men thou fellest to pack thy gaping maw;
The richest harvest crams thy hungry mouth;
Thy gloomy coat is crimson-lin'd, O Death,
And I have seen it blow back in the wind
Of life that roar'd to thee: "Back, back,
Thou claimest thine too early. I yet am strong."—
Thy equal for an hour! but could not stay
Thy ravenous greed or that thy crushing arm,
Thou lusty, stout, unconquerable Death!
Spoke thee a shade, a gatherer of the fallen?
Thou greedy Death! Had thy food only been
The feeble and the old, then might thy bones
Rattle against thy starv'd unsupple skin,
And thy swift arm hang unnerv'd at thy side.
But thou dost feed on babies and on maids
Plump with the ruddy freshness of their youth;
Strong men thou fellest to pack thy gaping maw;
The richest harvest crams thy hungry mouth;
Thy gloomy coat is crimson-lin'd, O Death,
And I have seen it blow back in the wind
Of life that roar'd to thee: "Back, back,
Thou claimest thine too early. I yet am strong."—
Thy equal for an hour! but could not stay
Thy ravenous greed or that thy crushing arm,
Thou lusty, stout, unconquerable Death!