Rudyard Kipling — The Dying Chauffeur Adam Lindsay Gordon

Wheel me gently to the garage, since my car and I must part—      No more for me the record and the run. That cursèd left-hand cylinder the doctors call my heart      Is pinking past redemption—I am done! They’ll never strike a mixture that’ll help me pull my load.      My gears are stripped—I cannot set my brakes. I am entered for the finals down the timeless untimed Road      To the Maker of the makers of all makes!