Who knows how long all this will last?

This roaring in our ears, as of the sea,

Or of a wind rushing in through a small tunnel,

This tight and constant press of people

All talking quietly at the same time,

This persistent beating

On the fabric of our minds.

One day all this will pass:

The steady ebb and flow of time,

The implacable need to move forever;

And rest will no longer be

A moment snatched between life's duties.