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...PRAYER AT SUNRISE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: HOME TO FARGO by KAREN SWENSON LINES WRITTEN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS by MATTHEW ARNOLD THALATTA! THALATTA!; CRY OF THE TEN THOUSAND by JOSEPH BROWNLEE BROWN PEACE; A STUDY by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY GO DOWN DEATH; A FUNERAL SERMON by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |