’Tis agony

To hear a clock

Dripping out hours

Into Eternity,

Remorselessly

Killing Youth’s flowers!

I am so young

And yet. Time’s cold

And iron tongue

Tells me I shall be old. . .

If every shriek

Killed in my brain

Abroad was hurled

Upon the world,

All men, aghast, would seek

The secret of my pain. . .

Man is no flower,

Simply to live,

Die in an hour,

But a weak fugitive . . .

’Tis agony

To hear a clock

Dripping out hours

Into Eternity,

Remorselessly

Killing Youth’s flowers . . .