It will come gently, when it comes for you
and so I will not fear.
No leering face of evil will it wear
no stench of grave will sully its grey gown
no rasp will quell the lulling of its song
but as a mother lifts her sleepy child
to lay it in its bed of final softness
it will come gently
have no fear.
It will come gently, as we stand and watch
and know that it must be.
You'll smile on us and bid us not to weep
and tell us we were all you could desire
and bless our faces with your parting light
but grief will be our house-guest just the same
to hold us when we wake from shaking dreams
still it will come gently
we'll have no fear
when at long last it comes
with its unfaltering steps
as yet it will.
by Anemone Baggins