MAKE way, my lords! for Death now once again Waits on the palace stairs. He comes to lay His finger on my brow. Make way! make way, Ye whispering groups that scent an ending reign! Death, if I make thee a grandee of Spain, And give thee half my subjects, wilt thou stay Behind the door a little, while I play With life a moment longer? I would fain. Oh, who shall turn the fatal shadow back On Ahaz' sundial now? Who'll cure the king When Death awaits him, motionless and black? Upon the wall the inexorable thing Creeps on and on, with horror in its track. The king is dying. Bid the great bells ring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AWAKENING RIVER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME by PATRICK SARSFIELD GILMORE THE MIRROR by THEODORE AUBANEL THE SMUGGLER'S LEAP; A LEGEND OF THANET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |