Life and Death.
On a bed of pain the sick girl lay
With closed, white-lidded eyes,
As the sunset gilded the azure bay
And crimsoned the western skies,
Whilst over her head in bitter strife
Strove the Angel of Death and the Angel of Life.
In and out of the chamber crept
The watchers, with noiseless tread,
They feared to disturb the one who slept,
For they knew how frail the thread
That held her light and wavering breath
And balanced her soul between life and death.
Then a gentle voice the silence broke,
And they gathered around the bed;
In low, sweet accents the sick girl spoke.
Strange were the words she said:
“Hearken to me and cease the strife,
O Angel of Death and Angel of Life.
“I am weary listening to the strife
And to end it I am fain,
So cease to struggle, O Death and Life
And I’ll choose between ye twain.”
Then turning to Life she wearily sighed,
“Tell me, what gifts can’st thou give thy bride?”
And swift from his lips the answer came:
“O maiden! I’ll give thee health
And youth and hope and deathless fame,
And treasures of golden wealth.”
Then his voice grew soft as the note of a dove,
“But best of all, I will give thee love.”
But she wearily turned her head aside
As he spake Love’s fatal name.
“Thou dost mock my sorrow, Life!” she cried,
“For what to me is fame?
And health and wealth prove worthless too,
Since hope is dead and my love untrue.
“O Angel! I spurn thy gifts and thee.”
And she turned to his rival, Death,
“And thou! what hast thou in store for me?”
She whispered with fleeting breath,
A cool, soft kiss on her brow he pressed,
And murmured, “Oblivion, peace and rest.”
And the maiden’s face grew strangely calm
At the sound of the angel’s voice,
And she laid her hand in his pale, cold palm.
Oh! wise was the maiden’s choice.
And the watchers in silence held their breath
As her soul went out to the arms of Death.