The Old House Clock

Oh! the old, old clock of the household stock,
Was the brightest thing, and neatest;
Its hands, though old, had a touch of gold,
And its chimes rang still the sweetest;
‘T was a monitor, too, though its words were few,
Yet they lived, though nations altered;
And its voice, still strong, warned old and young,
When the voice of friendship faltered:
“Tick! tick!” it said, “quick, quick, to bed:
For ten I’ve given warning;
Up! up! and go, or else you know,
You’ll never rise soon in the morning!”
A friendly voice was that old, old clock,
As it stood in the corner smiling,
And blessed the time with merry chime,
The wintry hours beguiling;
But a cross old voice was that tiresome clock,
As it called at daybreak boldly;
When the dawn looked gray o’er the misty way,
And the early air looked coldly:
“Tick! tick!” it said, “quick out of bed:
For five I’ve given warning;
You’ll never have health, you’ll never have wealth,
Unless you’re up soon in the morning!”
Still hourly the sound goes round and round,
With a tone that ceases never:
While tears are shed for bright days fled,
And the old friends lost forever!
Its heart beats on, though hearts are gone
That beat like ours, though stronger;
Its hands still move, though hands we love
Are clasped on earth no longer!
“Tick! tick!” it said, “to the churchyard bed,
The grave hath given warning;
Up! up! and rise, and look at the skies,
And prepare for a heavenly morning!”