234. The Bell-Man
Along the dark and silent night,With my lantern and my lightAnd the tinkling of my bell,Thus I walk, and this I tell:—Death and dreadfulness call onTo the general session;To whose dismal bar, we thereAll accounts must come to clear:Scores of sins we’ve made here many;Wiped out few, God knows, if any.Rise, ye debtors, then, and fallTo make payment, while I call:Ponder this, when I am gone:—By the clock ’tis almost One.