by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The hour-bell sounds, and I must go;
Death waits -- again I hear him calling; --
No cowardly desires have I,
Nor will I shun his face appalling.
I die in faith and honour rich --
But ah! I leave behind my treasure
In widowhood and lonely pain; --
To live were surely then a pleasure!
My lifeless eyes upon thy face
Shall never open more to-morrow;
To-morrow shall thy beauteous eyes
Be closed to love, and drown'd in sorrow;
To-morrow death shall freeze this hand,
And on thy breast, my wedded treasure,
I never, never more shall live; --
Alas! I quit a life of pleasure.
Morning Post, May 10, 1798
Source:The Golden Book Of Coleridge
London: J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd.
New York: E. P. Dutton & Co.