I wakened on my hot, hard bed;
Upon the pillow lay my head;
Beneath the pillow I could hear
My little watch was ticking clear.
I thought the throbbing of it went
Like my continual discontent;
I thought it said in every tick:
I am so sick, so sick, so sick:
O death, come quick, come quick, come quick,
Come quick, come quick, come quick, come quick...
More verses by Barry Cornwall
- The Poet's Song To His Wife
- The Old Witch In The Copse
- In France
- The New-Born Baby's Song
- A Petition To Time