As long as I can remember, I have known her face. Beautiful, plaintive, always marked with that solemn grace. I can remember it from childhood, perhaps when I was a babe, still, yet through the many years I cannot place exactly what I feel each time that she appears and I gaze into her eyes, those fathomless depths of promise, yet to realize. Yet when I try to approach to feel her kiss, she smiles and replies "No, not yet, 'tis not the time for thee to know my bliss". "Continue your sleep my child, there is more to thy dream, many are the secrets, yet for thee to glean. To wake too early would be such a loss, do not rush, Death's bridge to cross Yes long have I known her, the sweet face of Death, I have dreamed of her sweet kiss through all of life's breadth and somehow I 've always known we live in a dream and that we only wake when Death bridges the stream.