Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Ella WheelerWilcox

1270 Recrimination

SAID Life to Death: “Methinks, if I were you,

I would not carry such an awesome face

To terrify the helpless human race;

And if indeed those wondrous tales be true

Of happiness beyond, and if I knew

About the boasted blessings of that place,

I would not hide so miserly all trace

Of my vast knowledge, Death, if I were you:

But, like a glorious angel, I would lean

Above the pathway of each sorrowing soul,

Hope in my eyes, and comfort in my breath,

And strong conviction in my radiant mien,

The while I whispered of that beauteous goal.

This would I do if I were you, O Death.”

Said Death to Life: “If I were you, my friend,

I would not lure confiding souls each day

With fair, false smiles to enter on a way

So filled with pain and trouble to the end;

I would not tempt those whom I should defend,

Nor stand unmoved and see them go astray;

Nor would I force unwilling souls to stay

Who longed for freedom, were I you, my friend:

But, like a tender mother, I would take

The weary world upon my sheltering breast,

And wipe away its tears, and soothe its strife;

I would fulfil my promises, and make

My children bless me as they sank to rest

Where now they curse—if I were you, O Life.”

III

Life made no answer, and Death spoke again:

“I would not woo from God’s sweet nothingness

A soul to being, if I could not bless

And crown it with all joy. If unto men

My face seems awesome, tell me, Life, why then

Do they pursue me, mad for my caress,

Believing in my silence lies redress

For your loud falsehoods?” (so Death spoke again).

“Oh, it is well for you I am not fair—

Well that I hide behind a voiceless tomb

The mighty secrets of that other place:

Else would you stand in impotent despair,

While unfledged souls straight from the mother’s womb

Rushed to my arms and spat upon your face!”