POETRY.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1868, 18 February 1880, Page 3

POETRY.

THE OLD SCHOOL CLOCK. 'Twas a quaint old clock, with a quaint old face, And great iron weights and chain, And it stopped when it liked, and before it struck It groaned as if it 'twere in pain. It had seen many years; and it seemed to say — "I'm one of the real old stock," To the youthful fry who with reverence looked On the face of the " Old School Clock." Ah ! many a time have I labored to sketch That yellow and time honored face, With its basket of flowers, its figures, and hands, And the weights and the chains in their place; And oft have I gazed with admiring eye, As I sat on the wooden block, And pondered and guessed at the wonderful things That were inside the " Old School Clock." What a terrible frown did the old clock wear To the truant who so timidly cast An anxious eye on those merciless bands Which, for him, had been moving too fast. But it lingered not long, for it loved to smile On that noisy, thoughtless flock ; And it creaked, and whirred, and struck with glee, Did that genial, good-humored " Old Clock." Well! years had passed, and my mind was filled With the world, its oares, and its ways, When again I stood in that little school Where I passed my boyhood's days. My old friend was gone! and there hung a thing Which my feelings seemed to mock As I gazed with a saddening and sorrowing heart At a new-fashioned Yankee Cloek. 'Twas a gaudy thing, with bright painted sides, And it looked with an insolent stare At the desks, and the seats, and at everything old— And I thought of the friendly air Of the face that I missed, and its chains and weights— All gone to the auctioneer's block, 'lis a thing of the past; never more will I see, Save in mem'ry that old " School Clock."

'Tis the way of the world ! Old friends pass away, And fresh faces appear in their stead ; But still, 'mid the bustle and strife of this earth, We cherish the thoughts of the dead. Yes! dear are those mem'ries that have clung round my heart, And bravely withstood Time's rude shock; But not one is more hallowed or dear to me now Than the face of that " Old School Clock."