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There is a Reaper, whose name is Him,
And, with his pupils clean,
Strikes fear into a crafter's heart,
From here to hell and inbetween.

He says not a word, glaring on in silence;
His curiosity is unearthed,
He does not move and he does not breathe,
As you sit upon your hearth.

You sit on the floor of your cozy home,
Waiting for break of day;
Herobrine sits on grass and stone,
Taking your life away.

He hides behind trees and hills and buildings
Staring at you in your home;
Little do you know as you craft some things,
That you aren't truly alone.

You won't ever find him despite your efforts
For he is much too fast,
By the time you get to where he was standing,
He's gone to where you were last.

The evil stands in a stock-still pose,
Refusing to run and hide,
However, you should be safe in your house,
Just, please, don't go outside.

O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
'Twas an angel visited the green earth,
And took the crafters away.



(my commendation to henry wadsworth longfellow for the original poem because he was a really good writer and a much better poet than I am)

love it! And it kinda sounds like portal X3

Quote from klay65 »

love it! And it kinda sounds like portal X3

There IS an edited line of this in Portal, as a matter of fact:

Not in cruelty,
Not in wrath,
The REAPER came today;
An ANGEL visited
this gray path,
And took the cube away.

I love this. I'll see about trying to get this into English curriculum.