Was passing, and the clock's slow tick
Boomed its sad message to my ear
And made me pretty sick.
"You have been slack," I told myself, "and weak;
You have done foolishly, from wilful choice;
Sloth and procrastination—" Here my voice
Broke in a squeak.
And deep repentance welled in me
As I mused darkly on my sin;
Yea, Conscience stung me, like a bee