Poem
Death Is A Fisherman
Death is a fisherman, the world we see
His fish-pond is, and we the fishes be;
His net some general sickness; howe'er he
Is not so kind as other fishers be;
For if they take one of the smaller fry,
They throw him in again, he shall not die:
But death is sure to kill all he can get,
And all is fish with him that comes to net.
One poem every morning.
6,130 poems from Shakespeare to Tupac. Read one a day. Save the ones that stay.
Free on the App Store.