Death will still this beating heart of mine.
But that doesn't interest me
what enflames? what drives?
What torments with steady maddening beat?
what love and hate and mirth and doom?
will run with angry course
through the vales and chambers of my heart?
and set each thousandth of a measure
alive with the beat of life?
what use is life if not lived
with fervour with passion
until the steady beat is called to stop
and with flailing arms the sticks drop.