behold the passing hour nigh

when death through spineless pride one's life of dignity deprive when woe its tedious gloom cast o'er innocence immured shall not i, in its parlour, life's infinite rhyme conclude? shall not i, in the aftermath, serenely life's unchastity rewrite? behold the passing hour nigh permit thy soul not the warmth of death's final kiss, unwittingly, perceive as of the breath of life thus thy heart in passion's wake despairingly be betrayed weep not for those whom the veil of death hath obscured from thine eyes, weep thy for those whom life in dread hath profaned fear not, for the love abode in thee shall silently abide with thee