When Death Sang Softly to Me
The land was dark, tho mine eye doth see
Bands of angles, oh so heavenly!
Twas then my body shook with pain,
Visions of rapture, a dark form came.
With hair translucent as angles wings,
His coat obsidian black.
Peaked lips pale white, dead from the grave,
He cradled a sickle, so fresh with blood
O' a sweet tune death doth sing
So heavenly was his face
I took his hand, as we ascend, into a land of grace.