 | Poems of Rural Life in Common English |  |
80
THE OLD CLOCK
That old clock's face yet keeps its place,
And wheels its hands around,
His bob still swings, his bell still rings,
As when I heard his sound,
On leaving home so long ago,
And left him ticking, ticking slow.
And wheels its hands around,
His bob still swings, his bell still rings,
As when I heard his sound,
On leaving home so long ago,
And left him ticking, ticking slow.
No rust yet clogs its catching cogs,
To keep its wheels all still,
No blow e'er fell to crack his bell,
That hourly ringles shrill.
I wish my life were guided on
As true as that old clock has gone.
To keep its wheels all still,
No blow e'er fell to crack his bell,
That hourly ringles shrill.
I wish my life were guided on
As true as that old clock has gone.
81
Who now may wind his chain, untwin'd
In running out his hours,
Or make a gloss to shine across
His door, with golden flow'rs,
Since he has sounded out the last
Still hours our dear good mother pass'd.
In running out his hours,
Or make a gloss to shine across
His door, with golden flow'rs,
Since he has sounded out the last
Still hours our dear good mother pass'd.
| Poems of Rural Life in Common English | |