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...DINING-ROOM TEA by RUPERT BROOKE THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOW-WORM by WILLIAM COWPER FRIENDSHIP by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ONCE BY THE PACIFIC by ROBERT FROST THE WIDOW AT WINDSOR by RUDYARD KIPLING MEMORIAL TABLET (GREAT WAR, 1918) by SIEGFRIED SASSOON |