Dying

There he lies, his pale face fitfully waving a truce to Old Care, Life flowing out from a million invisible rents in his soul, To-morrow finally abolished. To-night he still breathes, To-morrow he’ll lie with the breathless, Past the goal, uprendered, solved in black mist, domino doffed--no more.

O Life, thou plunderer, Sly in thy cozzening, fell in thy lusts, weaver of nightmares, liar and cheat, Here is thy last mockery, Here is thy quarry: hast signalled the worms even now? Swift be thy flight, thou craven and satyr and old purpled lust!