The Stranger

Who is this stranger
That I see tonight.
He, who silently slips
Amongst the dark and the light.

Can't you see him?
He stands so near.
Listen! Listen! He speaks.
Can you not hear.

Arise, come with me,
For it is time, young man,
That you must touch
My outstreached hand.

"I am afraid", said I,
To touch that hand so cold.
Can't here I stay
To slowly grow old?"

But there is no escape
from that outstreached hand;
For when it is time,
Death waits on no man.

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