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Black March
This poem by Stevie Smith looks upon death as a familiar friend who will be welcome once life has become a burden.
It is added in memory of Eva, who was more than a friend and approached death, the next stage in the journey, with total equanimity.
' I have a friend
At the end
Of the world
His name is a breath
Of fresh air
He is dressed in
Grey chiffon.At least
I think it is chiffon.
It has a
Peculiar look like smoke.
It wraps him round
It blows out of place
It conceals him,
I have not seen his face.
But I have seen his eyes, they are
As pretty and bright
As raindrops on black twigs
In March, and heard him say:
I am a breath
Of fresh air for you, a change
By and by.
Black March I call him
Because of his eyes
Being like March raindrops
On black twigs.
(Such a pretty time when the sky
Behind black twigs can be seen
Stretched out in one
Uninterrupted
Cambridge blue as cold as snow)
But this friend
Whatever new names I give him
Is an old friend. he says:
Whatever names you give me
I am
A breath of fresh air,
a change for you.'
And this, the last poem Stevie Smith wrote
Come, Death 2
I feel ill. what can the matter be?
I'd ask God to have pity on me,
But I turn to the one I know, and say
Come, Death, and carry me away.
Ah me sweet Death, you are the only god
Who comes as a servant when he is called, you know,
listen to thi ssound I make, it is sharp,
come Death. Do not be slow.






