The Phantom's Touch

I recall a touch, which frequently fell upon me,
A chilling touch as though the shroud
Of Eternity had swept me.
Well I remember the awesome shrinking
Which beset me amid the sun-swept day.
With life about me, Death whispered,
And reminded me that he held me
To a sworn appointment!
How busily I employed me!
Living, making my hands lay hold of things,
Speaking loud, that I might hear my own
Comforting voice, feeling as though the earth,
And that Silence beyond had left me,
And that I had suddenly grown
To an enormous size, then shrunk to an atom.
I would not look upon this appointment,
Nor recall its mark upon my days.
Rather would I play with my hours,
As one plays with pence within one's pocket,
Comfortingly, afraid to count them;
Reassuringly taking note
That there still remained a goodly handful!
Oh, well I recall that chilling touch,
And laugh now, little noting the rent
Within my pocket, and that the day's pence
Slip through! For Death and I have become
Companionable. The awesome silence
Has given place to a phantomless land,
Peopled, not by ceremonious prayersters,
But by me and my brothers!
I have let my hand free-
And the pence are slipping-and I laugh!