Slowly the hour-hand of the clock moves round; So slowly that no human eye hath power To see it move! Slowly in shine or shower The painted ship above it, homeward bound, Sails, but seems motionless, as if aground; Yet both arrive at last; and in his tower The slumberous watchman wakes and strikes the hour, A mellow, measured, melancholy sound. Midnight! the outpost of advancing day! The frontier town and citadel of night! The watershed of Time, from which the streams Of Yesterday and To-morrow take their way, One to the land of promise and of light, One to the land of darkness and of dreams! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVER OF LIFE by THOMAS CAMPBELL AN ODE TO THE RAIN by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE MY YOUTH by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A MONA LISA by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE: BOOK 1. CANTO 2. PRELUDE: LOVE AT LARGE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 14. 'I LOVE THEE' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SEEKING WATERS by DORIS R. BECK |