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An eclectic, esoteric collection of reflections on existence, surfing, wilderness experience, & culture
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I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shaded 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.
Alan Seeger (1917)
Rendezvous With Death
One of his favorite poems. He knew.