Poems (White)/Death

by Jeannie Copes White

For works with similar titles, see Death.

DEATH

Can't we carry her away from Death?
Take her and run off, with bated breath?
Snatch her fair form, dash quickly away
Before Death has time a word to say?
  Yes, if we could—if we could,—

Can't you smother him as he draws near?
Crush him away from one we hold dear?
Can't some one fight him, then run away
Before his cold fingers on her lay?
  Yes, if we could—if we could,—

Ah! Death is one that we cannot slay
And to him we can never say nay.
Grim Death will come, and we all must go,—
While we must bow, and then take it so.
  That's all we can do—we can do.

There is no death for those who will pray;
His sting will pass to a better day.
There is no grave; its victory lay
With Jesus, who bore the Cross that Day.