Flowers and buds fall, and the old and ripe fall.

Not all of me shall die.

I go to seek a great perhaps.

Death squares all accounts.

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land. Better by far you should forget and smile Than you should remember and be sad.

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.

There is no cure for birth and death save to enjoy the interval. The dark background which death supplies brings out the tender colors of life in all their purity.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last final awakening.

Is life a pregnancy? That would make death a birth.

I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade.