Death holds no terrors for me, none but this—
I never want to forfeit what I hold
Most dear to me in life: the glowing gold
Of friends; the rose of joy; the pearly bliss
Of that delightful, ardent, stolen kiss
From one whose tender passions made him bold
To hide me in his arms against the cold.
These are the pleasures I will sorely miss
When, after all the birds of youth are flown,
I shall forsake these things that were mine own,
And the unneeded mass of flesh and bone
Will be the only relic to be found.
And as they lay it six feet underground,
I too will watch, and weep without a sound.
June 1, 1986