Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?

    Critics, who pastward, ever pastward peer,

    Great literature is with us year on year.

    Trumpet my fame while I am in my prime:

    Why do we ever wait for Death and Time?

    A man stood on the bathroom floor,

    While raged the storm without,

    One hand was on the water valve,

    The other on the spout.

    He fiercely tried to turn the plug,

    But all in vain he tried,

    "I see it all, I am betrayed,

    The water's froze," he cried.

    Down to the kitchen then he rushed,

    And in the basement dove,

    Long strived he for to turn the plugs,

    But all in vain he strove.

    "The hydrant may be running yet,"

    He cried in hopeful tone,

    Alas, the hydrant too, was froze,

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