I Have a Rendezvous with Death . . .

I have a rendezvous with Death     At some disputed barricade,     When Spring comes back with rustling shade     And apple-blossoms fill the air -     I have a rendezvous with Death     When Spring brings back blue days and fair.      It may be he shall take my hand     And lead me into his dark land     And close my eyes and quench my breath -     It may be I shall pass him still.     I have a rendezvous with Death     On some scarred slope of battered hill,     When Spring comes round again this year     And the first meadow-flowers appear.      God knows 'twere better to be deep     Pillowed in silk and scented down,     Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,     Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,     Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .     But I've a rendezvous with Death     At midnight in some flaming town,     When Spring trips north again this year,     And I to my pledged word am true,     I shall not fail that rendezvous.