T For Time

You false church clock, whose long-drawn chimes

Tell me life moves like some slow snail-

The watch beneath my pillow beats

So fast my breath doth almost fail.

Your solemn chime, that says I walk

Sedately to my grave- doth lie;

I gallop faster to my doom

Than any mortal bird can fly-

I gallop like a startled horse,

That leaping flames and whirlwinds chase-

Until his eyes have left his head,

And stretch beyond his frantic face.