Classic Poem

Doubt thourt an ague shock for reasons soul
To stand upon a loose & tottering stone
Ready adown the precipice to roll
When all that life & joy & light hath known
Must in a moments pause be overthrown
Nature must totter on that dreadfull brink
That pains convulsive earthquake seems to shake
Beneath my feet which unknown mysterys sink
Deeper then hell to make doubts mysterys ach
Hope often offers up her cup to drink
Till all is nothing — all — but fears awake
Will not be comforted till lifes last link
Chills snaps & falls into that dreadfull deep
Where deaths cold memory brings eternal sleep