What is this within my being,
Ticking, ticking evermore;
Like the sound of fairy footfalls
Dropping on some distant shore?
I can hear it in the midnight,
Hear it in the busy day,
Hear its clear and measured numbers
Whereso’er I chance to stray.

On that mystic little dial
There are clear and telling lines,
Over which the sunlight glitters,
And the passing hour defines.
Quicker, quicker, it is beating,
Swifter move those mystic hands,
With their lean and spectral fingers
Pointing to the shadowy lands.

But the day of life is waning,
Soon its shadows will decline,
And within my spirit’s
Cease the little mystic chime.
Dust, o’er all its motions falling,
Gathers deeper day by day;
Voices, from the future calling,
Seems to beckon me away.

Thrilling tales this clock is telling,
As the days and hours recede,
Noting every thought and action,
Yet we give it little heed.
Sometimes we may hear it ringing,
Clear and loud the passing hour,
Sending through the soul’s deep chamber
Tones of deep, mysterious power.

Yet we fold our arms and listen
To a thousand stranger sounds,
While the Life Clock, all unheeded,
Plods its tireless, solemn rounds.

Author: Unknown

Signs of the Times
Volume 28, Number 20; October 15, 1860

Below are the songs that were made from the poem using AI. They are identified
by the genre of the music in paranthesis.