Death Looks Out

"—And eight tall towers Guard the route Of human life, Where at all hours Death looks out, Holding a knife Rolled in a shroud.

For every man, Humble or proud, Mighty or bowed, Death has a shroud;—for every man,— Even for Tchingniz Khan! Behold them pass!—lancer. Baroulass, Temple dancer In tissue gold, Khiounnou, Karlik bold,

Christian, Jew,— Nations swarm to the great Urdu. Yaçaoul, with your kettledrum, Warn your Khan that his hour is come! Shroud and knife at his spurred feet throw, And bid him stretch his neck for the blow!—"

Chapter VII The Bridal, Slayer of Souls, Robert W. Chambers