And yet why was the thirst awakened in me, save to be satisfied at last?
Perhaps to become more intense, with every fresh delicious draught of knowledge....

Death, beautiful, wise, kind death; when will you come and tell me what I want to know?
I courted you once and many a time, brave old Death, only to give rest to the weary.

That was a coward's wish, and so you would not come.

I ran you close in Afghanistan, old Death, and at Sobraon too, I was not far behind you; and I thought I had you safe among that jungle grass at Aliwal; but you slipped through my hand--I was not worthy of you.

And now I will not hunt you any more, old Death: do you bide your time, and I mine; though who knows if I may not meet you here?
Only when you come give me not rest, but work.