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.