 | Ballads and other verses |  |
135
IN EXTREMIS.
Oh, the soul-haunting shadows when low he'll lie dying,
And the dread angel's voice for his spirit is crying!
Where will his thoughts wander, just before sleeping,
When a chill from the dark o'er his forehead is creeping?
Will he go on beguiling,
And wantonly smiling?
And the dread angel's voice for his spirit is crying!
Where will his thoughts wander, just before sleeping,
When a chill from the dark o'er his forehead is creeping?
Will he go on beguiling,
And wantonly smiling?
'T is June with him now, but quick cometh December;
There 's a broken heart somewhere for him to remember,
And sure as God liveth, for all his gay trolling,
The bell for his passing one day will be tolling!
Then no more beguiling,
False vowing and smiling!
There 's a broken heart somewhere for him to remember,
And sure as God liveth, for all his gay trolling,
The bell for his passing one day will be tolling!
Then no more beguiling,
False vowing and smiling!
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