1 <br />The ticking-- ticking-- ticking of the clock--! <br />That vexed me so last night--! 'For though Time keeps <br />Such drowsy watch,' I moaned, 'he never sleeps, <br />But only nods above the world to mock <br />Its restless occupant, then rudely rock <br />It as the cradle of a babe that weeps!' <br />I seemed to see the seconds piled in heaps <br />Like sand about me; and at every shock <br />O' the bell, the piled sands were swirled away <br />As by a desert-storm that swept the earth <br />Stark as a granary floor, whereon the gray <br />And mist-bedrizzled moon amidst the dearth <br />Came crawling, like a sickly child, to lay <br />Its pale face next mine own and weep for day. <br /> <br />2 <br />Wait for the morning! Ah! We wait indeed <br />For daylight, we who toss about through stress <br />Of vacant-armed desires and emptiness <br />Of all the warm, warm touches that we need, <br />And the warm kisses upon which we feed <br />Our famished lips in fancy! May God bless <br />The starved lips of us with but one caress <br />Warm as the yearning blood our poor hearts bleed...! <br />A wild prayer--! Bite thy pillow, praying so-- <br />Toss this side, and whirl that, and moan for dawn; <br />Let the clock's seconds dribble out their woe, <br />And Time be drained of sorrow! Long ago <br />We heard the crowing cock, with answer drawn <br />As hoarsely sad at throat as sobs... Pray on!<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/time-596/
