Classic Poem

There was a time that Death for me
Unbalanced every new delight:
Its cold, abhorrent mystery
Haunted me by day and night:
I felt its noisome, clammy blight
Making of life a mildewed thing:
But now to its face I cry: Alright!
I'm no afraid for the outgoing!

Because so many I loved have gone
I stare a-wondering at the skies:
The World below I look upon
With listless, old, exhausted eyes:
The while for every friend who dies
I feel a queerish loosening
Within of all familiar ties:
I'm no afraid for the outgoing!

I weary under a weight of days,
Withering and too sensible
Of aged needs and altered ways:
But this one thing is good to tell:
In the wintry desert where I dwell
Some rumor I have heard of spring,
And I have dreamed of asphodel:
I'm no afraid of the outgoing!

The sweet renewal of the air,
And the call of Youth recovering—
Do these await me yet somewhere?
I'm no afraid of the outgoing!