Nearer

Nearer and ever nearer...
My body, tired but tense,
Hovers 'twixt vague pleasure
And tremulous confidence.

Arms to have and to use them
And a soul to be made
Worthy, if not worthy;
If afraid, unafraid.

To endure for a little,
To endure and have done:
Men I love about me,
Over me the sun!

And should at last suddenly
Fly the speeding death,
The four great quarters of heaven
Receive this littlle breath.

by Robert Nichols

Other poems of ROBERT NICHOLS (29)

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imminent death.........
Worthy, if not worthy; If afraid, unafraid. To endure for a little, To endure and have done: Men I love about me, Over me the sun!