The sound of noon floats o'er the village-pool, Round the babe's cradle and the blind man's chair, And far afield; each buffet on the air Is whisper'd back by wandering hearts at school, The sweetest sum they do! Our Time has got A presence and a motion, and looks forth On all, and speaks to all - misprized or not; What earthly language has a holier worth? And though my little watch reports to me The measure of my life more tenderly Than these great seconds, with their iron gear, That serve the booming hours - I love to hear That fair and open reckoning, night and day, Which tells us boldly how we pass away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLADE OF DEAD LADIES by FRANCOIS VILLON THE MILKING-MAID by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT THE WAITER AND THE ALLIGATOR by G. W. A. CALVIN COOLIDGE, 1872-1933: 1. THE MAN by MARGARETTE BALL DICKSON |