To a Lady, XIV

But not to me came death so bright, For I had lov’d the world’s delight; And oh to leave what only charm’d me, To go with Death—that had disarm’d me, And dragg’d me, loth to part, and fain To struggle back to bonds again; ’Twas very hard—’twas very dread! But from my couch, I rais’d my head, And op’d mine eyes, to look once more On what, for me, should soon be o’er, And then I said—or thought, or seem’d To be repeating, while I dream’d Away my ebbing hour of breath— To leave this all, oh this is death!