Conrad Potter Aiken
Comments about Conrad Potter Aiken
Let me not shrink at sight of death,
Nor waste in grief an idle breath ...
You whom I loved are one with clay,
The brightness in your eyes is gone,
I shall not meet your face to-day;
Your day is done, while mine goes on ...
Why pity you? You had your fling;
You had your chance to dance and sing,-
To love, to hate, to kiss, to kill,