William Harrison Ainsworth

The Soul-Bell

Fast the sand of life is falling, 
Fast her latest sigh exhaling,
			Fast, fast, is she dying.

With death’s chills her limbs are shivering, 
With death’s gasp the lips are quivering,
			Fast her soul away is flying.

O’er the mountain-top it fleeteth, 
And the skyey wonders greeteth, 
Singing loud as stars it meeteth 
			On its way.

Hark! the sullen Soul-bell tolling, 
Hollowly in echoes rolling, 
			Seems to say –

“She will open her eyes – oh, never!
Quenched their dark light – gone for ever!
			She is dead.”