ON DEATH

When I consider how each day's career

Doth with its footstep dark [?] yet heavy tread

Approach my soul to those great regions dread

And bring my youth to timeless death more near,

Though strange and sad to one it doth appear

That I (who now feel life) must soon he dead

Some vague, uncertain sorrow weighs my head

And whelms my coward mind with lengthless fear.

Nevertheless through sorrow, rage and tear,

My heart yet each moment's boon shall sense.

And shake rude laughter from each heart-felt moan:

Not without hope is most extreme despair,

I know not death and think it no release -

The bad, indeed, is better than the unknown.