Di morte certo. <br /> <br />My death must come; but when, I do not know: <br />Life's short, and little life remains for me: <br />Fain would my flesh abide; my soul would flee <br />Heavenward, for still she calls on me to go. <br /> <br />Blind is the world; and evil here below <br />O'erwhelms and triumphs over honesty: <br />The light is quenched; quenched too is bravery: <br />Lies reign, and truth hath ceased her face to show. <br /> <br />When will that day dawn, Lord, for which he waits <br />Who trusts in Thee? Lo, this prolonged delay <br />Destroys all hope and robs the soul of life. <br /> <br />Why streams the light from those celestial gates, <br />If death prevent the day of grace, and stay <br />Our souls for ever in the toils of strife?<br /><br />Michelangelo Buonarroti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lxix-waiting-for-death/
