Death is white as winter, soft

As early snow. Death is cold,

Chill and swift as river's flow.

Death is quiet, gentle, ever bold.

Death is faintest footsteps echo

Through the night. Death is solemn

Prayer waiting for what's right.

Death is a distant column

Of soldiers off to war. Death

Is an ancient lady, who

Waits and knows not of what for

Death, a stranger we once knew,

Our constant companion, our long

Awaited appointment, now

Has arrived. Let us stand

And greet our guest. Shall you bow

Before the king who humbles

Us all? Death, the one with no

Master, our long awaited

Friend, our terrifying foe.

Do not doubt that Death shall find

You, as it must find us all.

At the door there is a knock.

Rise, answer Death's final call.