I who have known thee, Birth, must know Death too: <br />As old, old men their children's children fold <br />In their gaunt arms, and though their blood be cold <br />Feel their own youth burn in them as they view <br />The features that were theirs — each sign so true <br />To their own breath and blood, 'tis as retold <br />Their very youth was, when they are so old, <br />By those who nothing of their childhood knew. <br />So even Death but a new birth may be, <br />And in some other star beyond to-day, <br />When we have put the use of Earth away, <br />E'en like those old men's children's children we <br />May see ourselves rise from our own decay, <br />The very offspring of our verity.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/birth-and-death-9/
