It comes in a vertical embrace,
Upward journey into the wee of night.
London bells like I have heard.
Sweet sleep perturbed by zazzy waves.
And tick-tock race, chasing my dreams.

It comes so soon as it fades so fast,
Racing tracks to an unseen end.
Talk yester-in, then the reach.
Splattered, sweated ink on whitened blank
With worthy plans to splash on it.

Plan for it, work on it, and rest in it.
Think headwise and not waistwise.
Headseed first does end in fame.
Waistful thought endures in pain.
Quitted-morrow is ignorance's dad.

Those who forelook rejoice in it.
Those that wish-watch regret in it.
Today’s seed is its tree.
Take the pill for the pain
And tomorrow is its gain.