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Poem by Bryan Waller Procter


The Watch


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 quickЕ 



Bryan Waller Procter


Bryan Waller Procter's other poems:
  1. Golden-Tressed Adelaide
  2. Sit Down, Sad Soul
  3. In France
  4. The New-Born Baby's Song
  5. Pre-Existence


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