A Poem A Day by Romilly Wilde

long the dark and silent night,

With my lantern and my light

And the tinkling of my bell,

Thus I walk, and this I tell:

Death and dreadfulness call on

To the general session;

To whose dismal bar, we there

All accounts must come to clear:

Scores of sins we’ve made here many;

Wiped out few, God knows, if any.

Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall

To make payment, while I call:

Ponder this, when I am gone:

By the clock ’tis almost One.

From A Poem A Day: United Kingdom, Ireland & Continental Islands