The clock is in a garden wide, And there it keeps the hours, And even finds a way to hide Its face among the flowers. The clock is in a hive of bees, The clock is in a fountain - It's here, it's there, it's in the trees Yonder up a mountain. At times it's all all that I can hear - No surer clock could be - For it is always somewhere near, And strikes eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GROWING OLD by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE WILD SWANS by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY CROSSING BROOKLYN FERRY by WALT WHITMAN THE WAY OF SACRIFICE by MATTHEW ARNOLD SONGS OF NIGHT TO MORNING: 4 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) AUTUMN by WILLIAM ASPENWALL BRADLEY SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 10 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |