THE MIDNIGHT HOUR OF SORROW…
The midnight hour of sorrow on brazen bell doth toll, And sleep, life’s toll-collector, comes not to take the toll. On roads so often trodden Death wants to lead for aye, And Life and Death comparing, which is the best to weigh; But now my reason’s balance unchangèd still doth stand, For ’tween them both is fixèd, unmoved the pointing hand.