The Day Before I Die

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There's such a lot of work to do, for such a troubled head!
I-m scribbling this against a book, with foolscap round, in bed.
It strikes me that I-ll scribble much in this way by and by,
And write my last lines so perchance the day before I die.

There-s lots of things to come and go, and I, in careless rhyme,
And drink and love (it wastes the most) have wasted lots of time.
There-s so much good work to be done it makes me sure that I
Will be the sorriest for my death, the day before I die.

But, lift me dear, for I am tired, and let me taste the wine-
And lay your cheek a little while on this lined cheek of mine.
I want to say I love you so-your patient love is why
I-ll have such little time, you know, the day before I die.