Classic Poem

When Death at last shall take my hand and lead me to his gateway dim,
There at the threshold I shall pause to make my one request of him.
I think that he will smile and say, " One moment, then, " and I shall run
Across that narrow space where Life walks with her face toward the sun;
And I shall say, " I have come back one little moment more to bless
And thank you for my splendid years of love and song and happiness;
O, thank you, thank you, " I shall say, and kiss my hand, and, happily
Run back across that narrow space where Death, benignant, waits for me.