I first met Death one cool bandh day
While watching shadows grow.
And though there was a lovely sight,
I did not want to go.

I next saw Death one April day
with sun so high at noon.
And though it had sweet words to say,
I thought the time too soon.

I then felt Death in December chill
When all the dead leaves sigh.
And though this meeting was a thrill,
I found the cost too high.

I left with Death one rainy morn
with no time left to stall.
And like the day this soul was born,
I felt no pain at all.

WILFRED JOHN

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-end-136/