Death is curt, death is cold,
Death is new, death is old.
Death is no summer, death is no fall;
It is for one, it is for all.
It is no low mist, nor a dark cloud,
Donne is mistaken: death is not proud.
Death is a player in the stage-
It is man's reason for his age.
Death is a cause, it is a reason;
It is Life's changing season.
Death is one moment too long;
Death is one reason beyond.
Copyright © SC
5th March 1982
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Comments about this poem (Death by Subroto Chatterjee )
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