The man in the long black cloak visited again last night,
Knocking with his cold hand of bony white,
Cometh he, for a soul to take,
Taketh he to that immortal place,
Where all dwell— and abide doth all stay
After passing past our dying day.
Where lifetime is judged, but no judgement passed,
No lines are drawn, no colours cast.
Dwell all and all from young and old,
In pastures green— oaks bold.
Cometh he in the long black cloak, in the haven of the night,
Knocking with his cold staff of bony white,
Open the doors; let in the light
And continue your journey,
Though you know not what you seek,
May the luxury you found, ‘twas not yours to keep.
Precious is our stay upon our Earth,
But eternity is merely a rolling hearse,
Over the hills... far away,
Turn your back; hark what the wind says:
As he in the long black cloak knocks upon your door,
Listen to his sound... and fear no more...