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Death and his Friends
By evening, through the forest, I walked, when,
The strange sight of a Pale Horse I was blessed;
Rider followed by horde of ghostly men.
In deepest gown of night Rider was dressed.
Dark hood consumed light from surrounding space.
He said, “Come, walk with me, forget your age,”
I knew him not, I could not see his face:
I ran fast, but could hear his silent rage.
And just when I had thought I had escaped,
I fell. I woke up, to find with me: Death.
Around me ghostly cloth had so been draped;
I knew long past was taken my last breath.
And for my foolish thought, I make amends:
Thought I'd not follow death and all his friends.