950
In life's good-works as swell them to a crime.
If I of pardon for my sins were sure,
About my goodness I would rest secure.'
"Such was his end; and mine approaches fast;
I've seen my best of preachers—and my last."—
He bow'd, and archly smiled at what he said,
Civil but sly:—"And is old Dibble dead?"
Yes! he is gone: and we are going all;
Like flowers we wither, and like leaves we fall;—