sky-whip's

Updated: May 8, 2025

With care he burthens all his soul; Heaped ingots curve his willing back; Submissive to that fierce control, He needs at last the sky-whip's crack, Till at the grave, No more a slave, "Rest, rest, rest," sighs the whip of the sky: "Hurry not, haste no more, rest when you die!"

Frank Preston Stearns - Cambridge Sketches