I heard the city time-bells call
Far off in hollow towers,
And one by one with measured fall
Count out the old dead hours;
I felt the march, the silent press
Of time, and held my breath;
I saw the haggard dreadfulness
Of dim old age and death.
An Impression
Archibald Lampman
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Poem topics: breath, city, death, silent, march, time, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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