Select Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4478, 12 May 1883, Page 1

Select 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 'twere in pain. It had aeen 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 hare I labored to sketch That yellow and time honored face, With its basket of flowers, its figures, and hands, . Aiid the weights and the chains in their place; And oft have I gazed with admiring eye, ■" As I sat on the wooden block, i And pondered and guessed at the wonderful things That were inside the " Old School Clock."

What a terrible frown did the old block wear To the trnant who so timidly cast An anxious eye on those merciless hands Which, foi- 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 cares, q^nd 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 saddened and sorrowing . heart : ; ■ ' ■ At a new-fashioned Yankee Clock.

'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 totho auctioneer's block. 'Tis a thing of the past; novermore will I see Save in mem'ry that old " School Block,"

'Tis the way of the world! Old friends pass away, - „•;•■, » '■• : .. • . . . And fresh faces appear in their stead; But still 'mid the bustle, and Btrife of this earth, "■,. .' We cherisli the thoughts of the dead, Yesl dear are those mem'ries they've clung round my heart, - : And bravely withstood Time's rude stock; But none is «moro hallowed or dear to me now . , ; .

Than the face of. that "■ Old School Clock." ••;- - Joes JBoiiß O-Rbikijt.