I SLEPT across the front of the clock, Close to the long case-door; The hours were brought by their brazen knock To my ear as the slow nights wore. Thus did I, she being sick to death, That each hour as it belled Should wake me to rise, and learn by her breath Whether her strength still held. Yet though throughout life's midnights all I would have watched till spent For her dear sake, I missed the call Of the hour in which she went. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DORA WILLIAMS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS PORTRAIT OF A BOY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS MOMENT by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST THE CENTER OF GRAVITY by DAVID IGNATOW DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |