Astray

Little lady! as you walk
With a shy and pensive pace:
Little lady! as you talk
I am looking in your face.
     Who am I? you do not know,
     Or you wouldn't eye me so.

Sure your step is like a wave,
And your voice is sweet to charm,
And your face, composed and grave,
Shows no motion of alarm.
     Little lady! If I say
     Who I am, you'll run away.

Little lady! I am Death,
I am sent to comfort thee:
Now you start and catch your breath
Lady, do not run from me.
     Just awhile ago you smiled,
     Little lady! Little child!

Little lady! Smile of Grace!
This is not the road for you.
This is not a fitting place.
— Once there was a Lily grew
     In a garden. — Cease to roam,
     I have come to bring you home.


The Lonely God, and Other Poems [1909]