Page:Lyrics of Life, Coates, 1909.djvu/48

28 To still with presence kind my pulse's throbbing,

To lay a cooling touch upon my brow.

Tell me thy name! Then, pain and fear forgotten, I straightway will arise and follow thee,

Who, as I think, art hither come to guide me

To larger hope and opportunity.

Tell me thy name! I long, I need, to hear it!

Thy name!—I may not plead, for failing breath,—

With look compassionate, the august stranger

Made answer very softly: "I am Death."