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 quick… 

1. Golden-Tressed Adelaide
2. Sit Down, Sad Soul
3. In France
4. The Old Witch in the Copse
5. The New-Born Baby's Song

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