Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DEATH OF THE OLD CLOCK, by CHARLES CAPRON MARSH


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE DEATH OF THE OLD CLOCK, by                    
First Line: A hundred years upon the stair
Last Line: A hundred years upon the stair.


A HUNDRED years upon the stair
It ever had been ticking there,
And to and fro its pendulum
Forever used to go and come;
It brought the moments of delight,
It marked a sorrow's passing flight,
It chorused with the marriage bell,
It echoed to the funeral knell,
And youth had laughed to see it speed,
But with it vainly age might plead;
It ticked its message ill or fair
A hundred years upon the stair.

It wore a dress of dingy brown,
A closely fitting walnut gown,
A curious piece of carved wood,
On massive eagle claws it stood.
We loved its figure tall and trim,
Its changeless features cold and grim;
It ticked us softly oft to sleep,
The midnight watches used to keep,
And with the waking of the morn
Its music to our ears was borne:
'T was foe and friend beyond compare
A hundred years upon the stair.

We saw it on its busy way
One drear and bleak November day,
And when the stormy evening fell,
Still paced the faithful sentinel;
But when the dawn of morning broke,
Its ancient tongue no longer spoke,
And to and fro the pendulum
Had ceased at last to go and come;
There none had heard its final beat,
Nor seen their journey all complete;
But still were hands that rested ne'er
A hundred years upon the stair.

The spider with its silent cloud
Has woven it a fleecy shroud;
For love of other days it stays,
Unmoved by changing times and ways,
And finds amid the corner's gloom
Its final grave, its only tomb.
The minutes unrecorded fly,
And men are born and live and die;
Yet stiff and silent stands it there
A hundred years upon the stair.





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