SONNET ON DEATH by Luis Dato

Death, inevitable hour that e'er will hold For us a stretch of pained anxiety. Whose gates wide open we can never see, Nor these to close suffice the dead man's gold
SONNET ON DEATH by Luis Dato

Death, inevitable hour that e’er will hold
For us a stretch of pained anxiety.
Whose gates wide open we can never see,
Nor these to close suffice the dead man’s gold

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