I carved an image coloured like the night, <br />Winged with huge wings, stern-browed and menacing, <br />With hair caught back, and diademed like a king. <br />The left hand held a sceptre, and the right <br />Grasped a sharp sword, the bitter marble lips <br />Were curled and proud ; the yellow topaz eyes <br />(Each eye a jewel) stared in fearful wise ; <br />The hard fierce limbs were bare, and from the hips <br />A scourge hung down. And on the pedestal <br />I wrote these words, 'O all things that have breath <br />This is the image of the great god Death, <br />Pour ye the wine and bind the coronel! <br />Pipe unto him with pipes and flute with flutes, <br />Woo him with flowers and spices odorous, <br />Let singing boys with lips mellifluous <br />Make madrigals and lull his ear with lutes. <br />Anon bring sighs and tears of harsh distress, <br />And weeping wounds! so haply ye may move <br />A heart of stone, from breasts of hate suck love, <br />Or garner pity from the pitiless.'<br /><br />Lord Alfred Douglas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-image-of-death/
