Classic Poem

Who knows whence thoughts of death the mind assail?
In wondrous wise they've haunted me to-night;
My limbs already owned the conqueror's might,
I felt my heart's retarded beatings fail;
Unwonted tremors made my spirit quail,
My spirit which so seldom knows affright;
Yet now 'twas quenched, and now restored to light,
Like some dim torch that feels a passing gale
Did dreams molest my sleep, with terrors rife?
The skylark sings, the ruddy morning glows,
New longings bid me wake to bustling life.
Or hath the dread Death-angel near me sped?
Yon flowers that freshly bloomed at evening's close
Droop from their stem, dry, withered, scentless, dead!