Poems - Seeger - I Have a Rendezvous with Death . . .

Poems - Seeger - I Have a Rendezvous with Death . . .

Are you afraid of death? Afraid of that inevitable, inescapable moment when you and he shall meet? or is it you and she, or you and it? Illus: Who can forget the legend of Samara?

There on the streets of Baghdad, a merchant sent his servant to the market, so the legend goes.

But soon the man returned, ashen-faced and trembling:

"O Master, down in the market place I was jostled by a woman,
and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me.
She looked at me and made a threatening gesture.....
O Master, please, lend me your horse....I must flee her...
I will ride to Samara...and there hide...Death shall not find me."
The merchant taking pity on his servant
lent his own stallion to the frightened man....
and in a cloud of dust the fleeing servant was gone!

A little later the merchant himself walked down to the marketplace and there saw Death standing in the crowd:
"Why did you frighten my servant this morning...why did you make that threatening gesture?" the merchant inquired of Death.

"Oh," Death quietly replied, "that was NOT a threatening gesture...it was only a START OF SURPRISE...for I was astonished to see him here in Baghdad, FOR I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH HIM TONIGHT IN SAMARA."

It is inevitable, is it not? Inescapable...your appointment and mine in Samara with Death.
For when you have an appointment with death--there is no point in running, there is no point in hiding...death will be awaiting us all!

Illus: Listen to the words of one of the greatest poems written during the First World War...written by a young man who himself died in battle at the age of 28,

Alan Seeger's "I Have a Rendevous with Death."

I have a rendevous with Death
At some disputed barricade
When Spring comes round with rustling shade
And apple blossoms fill the air.
I have a rendevous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath;
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendevous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse night to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear . . .
But I've a rendevous with Death
At midnight in some flaming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendevous.

Alan Seeger. 1888–1916

Also, a favorite of JFK.