[Pg 17]

THE OLD OLD CLOCK

Dear old Old Clock, thy grave tick tock

I heard in my childhood days,

In the solemn night, when the fire burned bright,

And the lamp cast feeble rays;

When grandmother close by the mantelpiece,

Sat dozing or knitting, or carding fleece,

Or watching the dying blaze;

When mother was young and her beautiful hair

Had never a silver thread;

When her life was fair as her love was rare,

In the years that have swiftly sped.

Thy grave tick tock, dear old Old Clock,

Unchanged through the changing years,

Still beating time in a ceaseless rhyme

To the dirge of the rolling spheres,—

Unmindful that she by the mantelpiece

Is gone with her knitting and carding fleece,—

Unmoved by our sorrowing tears—

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