Euthanasia

Wouldst see blithe looks, fresh cheeks beguile Age? wouldst see December smile? Wouldst see nests of new roses grow In a bed of reverend snow? Warm thoughts, free spirits, flattering Winter's self into a spring? In sum wouldst see a man that can Live to be old, and still a man? Whose latest and most leaden hours, Fall with soft wings stuck with soft flowers; And, when life's sweet fable ends, Soul and body part like friends; No quarrels, murmurs, no delay - A kiss, a sigh, and so away. This rare one, reader, wouldst thou see? Hark hither! - and thyself be he.