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Nor dread nor hope attend

A dying animal;

A man awaits his end

Dreading and hoping all;

Many times he died,

Many times rose again.

A great man in his pride

Confronting murderous men

Casts derision upon

Supersession of breath;

He knows death to the bone

Man has created death.



The poem Death by William Butler Yeats

In the dark I feel alone

In the dark I am home



I think often of how youd taste

After I removed your Lace



I wait for you in the dark

When there is no Bark



So I wait for you to feel alone

Then I come to take you home