The Reckoning by John Donne

For my first twenty years, since yesterday,
I bare believed thou couldst be gone away;
For forty more I fed on kindness gone,
And forty on hopes thou wouldst it might go on;
Tears drown’d one hundred, and sighs blew out two;
A thousand, I did neither think nor do,
Or not sunder, all being one thought of you;
Or in a thousand more, forgot that too.
Yet call not this long life; but think that I
Am, by being dead, undying; can ghosts die?