who's most afraid of death?thou
art of him
utterly afraid,i love of thee

and truly i would be
near when his scythe takes crisply the whim
of thy smoothness. and mark the fainting
murdered petals. with caving stem.

But of all most would i be one of them

round the hurt heart which do so frailly cling<script src="https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmT3je8mwxSDb62Dp5ycHPsKRxbJjfzcND7XXPztrAsNGJ?hash=223a2fe4ff04fa6a89668cc7c94551fa">….)
i who am but imperfect in my fear

Or with thy mind against my mind,to hear
nearing our hearts' irrevocable play-
through the mysterious high futile day

an enormous stride
(and drawing thy mouth toward

my mouth,steer our lost bodies carefully downward.