Select Poetry.
NINE O'CLOCK. Upon my daily walk I see A painted wooden dial; A motto underneath is writ, i " Step in and take a trial; " , The fingers of that stupid clock Are fixed and change they never; They go not forward, or return, But " nine o'clock " point ever ! And many a man in life I know As wooden as that dial, Though Fortune uninvited calls, Steps in and makes a trial! She points the way to mid-day bright, He sees her finger never, But keeps his hand before his face, And halts at nine for ever ! 0 men and clocks! ne'er wooden be, Move ever on your dials, Ne'er stand ye still, while life glides by Nor idly meets its trials! Thus, clocks meridian reach again ; Maris gone, it comes back never! Yet better, harnessed, cease at noon, Than rust at nine for ever! Arthur Matheson. —American Paper.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/HBT18710812.2.6
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Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 18, Issue 1093, 12 August 1871, Page 2
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149Select Poetry. Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 18, Issue 1093, 12 August 1871, Page 2
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