Rudyard Kipling

«Epitaphs of the War». 1914-1918. 13. The Favour

Death favoured me from the first, well knowing I could not endure 
    To wait on him day by day.    He quitted my betters and came 
Whistling over the fields, and, when he had made all sure, 
    “Thy line is at end,” he said, “but at least I have saved its name.”