I have a rendezvous with Death

At some disputed barricade,

When Spring comes back with rustling shade

And apple-blossoms fill the air,

I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.


It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath

It may be I shall pass him still.

I have a rendezvous with Death

On some scarred slope of battered hill,

When Spring comes round again this year

And the first meadow-flowers appear.