Death's Discourse

For e'er there were to come a day
In Winter's depths or bright bless'd May
Whereupon I would across the path
Of Satan startl'd, and in his wrath
My life to end, he would so choose!
Though is that all that much to lose?
But fie! In underestimation,
I assum'd a stance, that in this nation
Seems most deranged, unlucid, bleak:
To die -- so simple? So simple to speak?
But now I've reached a point with which
I'd beteem your mind a sudden itch!
How quickly do you think you could
O'erturn the hold of custom, should
You try to bide by laws of Man?
Is there some reason, hope, or plan
That your noblest purpose hears,
And (with discretion) it sudden veers
To new, unbridled forms of thought
With these words I hope to've wrought
Within you now? But I am done!
Now find new purpose in this new Sun!