Ernest Hemingway

He fought with Death upon the stage of Life
teasing his great Opponent, whom he sought
on foreign battlefields, in civil strife
where people freedom's losing battles fought.
Wounded by shells and bullets, caught with ease
in whily nets by Death's playmate Love,
his pen soon gave him glory' mock release
from time, a gift to those who lead and move.
He offered Him the lives of mighty beasts
to meet Him thus on equal terms as though
they were comrades enjoying common feasts
and when he felt near to the final blow,
he said to Him, cornered in no man's land:
The game is up. You win, but through my own hand!