Classic Poem

Toll, bell, toll. For hope is flying
Sighing from the earthbound soul:
Life is sighing, life is dying:
Toll, bell, toll.

Gropes in its own grave the mole
Wedding darkness, undescrying,
Tending to no different goal.

Self-slain soul, in vain thy sighing:
Self-slain, who should make thee whole?
Vain the clamour of thy crying:
Toll, bell, toll.