The clock I go to bed by is so very wee and small, The big hand gets around it in almost no time at all; And after tea, when bedtime is half a nour away, The little minutes on it are the shortest in the day. I wish that little bedtime clock was hanging here instead, And then they 'd use this kitchen clock for sending me to bed. When I'm waiting for my luncheon, it's so terribully slow; It has the biggest minutes of 'most any clock I know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FRAGMENTS WRITTEN WHILE TRAVELING...A MIDWESTERN HEAT WAVE by JAMES GALVIN ON BRODSKY'S COLLECTED by MICHAEL S. HARPER DESTINY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FINIS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON PEACE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 4. THE LOTTERY GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON PRAYER AT SUNRISE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |