Last night I watched for Death–
So sick of life was I!–
When in the street beneath
I heard his watchman cry
The hour, while passing by.
I called. And in the night
I heard him stop below,
His owlish lanthorn’s light
Blurring the windy snow–
How long the time and slow!
I said, _Why dost thou cower
There at my door and knock?
Come in! It is the hour!
Cease fumbling at the lock!
Naught’s well! ‘Tis no o’clock!_
Black through the door with him
Swept in the _Winter’s_ breath;
His cloak was great and grim–
But he, who smiled beneath,
Had the face of Love not Death.
(Madison Julius Cawein)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Life Poems, Night Poems, Time Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Faces PoemsBased on Keywords: lanthorn, owlish