Classic Poem

Intolerable Time grasps eagerly,
With hideous Destiny, who sits him near;
Some name him Fate—it matters not to me,
So that thy awful durance shall appear.
Old ebon Heth, eternal Black! strange sight!
Strange, that thou dost not bend to Father Time,
But, rather, holdest confident thy prime,
In this quick-speeding world, where hovers Night.

Yes, bleached Anatomy! dry skin and bone!
Thou Grasshopper! thou bloodless, fleshless thing,
That still, with thin long tongue dost gayly sing!
I would not meet thee at broad noon alone;
For much I fear thee, and thy yellow fingers,
Thy cold, sepulchral eye, where moonlight lingers.