Time

The ticking — ticking — ticking of the clock —!

That vexed me so last night —! “For though Time keeps

Such drowsy watch,” I moaned, “he never sleeps,

But only nods above the world to mock

Its restless occupant, then rudely rock

It as the cradle of a babe that weeps!”

I seemed to see the seconds piled in heaps

Like sand about me; and at every shock

O’ the bell, the piled sands were swirled away

As by a desert-storm that swept the earth

Stark as a granary floor, whereon the gray

And mist-bedrizzled moon amidst the dearth

Came crawling, like a sickly child, to lay

Its pale face next mine own and weep for day.