Explore "Death's Protest" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? / Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling / To my false rival, Life? I do but bring / Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban / And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan / I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, / I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting, / And peace eternal for earth's stormy span.
The wild mad prayers for comfort sent in vain / To knock at the indifferent heart of Life, / I, Death, have answered. Knowest thou not 'tis he, / My cruel rival, who sends all thy pain / And wears the soul out in unending strife? / Why dost thou hold to him, then, spurning me?