Time

1 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. 2 Wait for the morning! Ah! We wait indeed For daylight, we who toss about through stress Of vacant-armed desires and emptiness Of all the warm, warm touches that we need, And the warm kisses upon which we feed Our famished lips in fancy! May God bless The starved lips of us with but one caress Warm as the yearning blood our poor hearts bleed...! A wild prayer--! Bite thy pillow, praying so-- Toss this side, and whirl that, and moan for dawn; Let the clock's seconds dribble out their woe, And Time be drained of sorrow! Long ago We heard the crowing cock, with answer drawn As hoarsely sad at throat as sobs... Pray on!