To a Lady, XXI

It sunk: I swoon’d: a pang—’twas over! Nay, nay, for still my life would hover: The dying lamp would flicker—flicker, Though breath was low, and sight was thicker. And I was going, going slowly, My heart unshrived, my soul unholy, The sins of mis-spent years upon me, And follies that had all undone me! And this I knew not—for ’twas awful, How I was fill’d with thoughts unlawful; Thoughts that did make me all forget What I had left for dying minute; And I was dying, dying, yet Forgot that endless death was in it.