Within the cracked and scarred mahogany frame, Black figures on the metal face Stare out of a faded rose wreath; In the dim, crude gilt on the glass door One scarcely sees the peasant women gathering faggots. The tarnished brass wheels keep turning; The lead weights sinking; The pendulum swinging -- After almost a century, "Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. --" The yellowed mark says, "Brass clock, Warranted good." At night, A little old woman, Bent, wrinkled, white-haired; Blue eyes strained and dim; Cheeks still soft and pink, -- Stands on a chair to wind the clock. -- "Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock --" It strikes; Loudly the harsh, business-like tone Clangs through the house. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I WAS A BIRD by KATHERINE MANSFIELD LOVERS HOW THEY COME AND PART by ROBERT HERRICK ROBERT E. LEE by JULIA WARD HOWE SONGS OF TRAVEL: 45. TO S.R. CROCKETT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION: BOOK 2 by MARK AKENSIDE |