Classic Poem

Hark how the passing bell
Rings out thy neighbour's knell,
And thou for want of wit,
Or grace, ne'er think'st on it,
—Because thou yet art well.

Fool! in two days or three,
The same may ring for thee;
For Death's impartial dart
Will surely hit thy heart;
—He will not take a fee.

Since then he will not spare,
See thou thyself prepare
Against that dreadful day
When thou shalt turn to clay,
—This bell bids thee beware.

Hark how the passing bell
Rings out thy neighbour's knell,
And thou for want of wit,
Or grace, ne'er think'st on it,
—Because thou yet art well.

Fool! in two days or three,
The same may ring for thee;
For Death's impartial dart
Will surely hit thy heart;
—He will not take a fee.

Since then he will not spare,
See thou thyself prepare
Against that dreadful day
When thou shalt turn to clay,
—This bell bids thee beware.