MY watch wouldn't work worth a dime, it was always a fortnight too slow; instead of recording the time, it monkeyed around, to and fro. The mainspring seemed out of repair, it traveled by spasms and jerks; so I sat me right down in a chair, and studied the watch and its works. I took it apart with a wrench, and studied the levers and gears, all piled in a heap on a bench; I studied and wiggled my ears. I put the wheels back in the case, and shook them to give them a shock; but the hands didn't go round the face, and the works didn't tick nor yet tock. I asked of the plumber advice, and counsel I asked of the judge, consulted the dealer in ice—and still the blamed works wouldn't budge. "Methinks," I remarked, "and I wist, I must go to the jeweler's shop." He gave it three twists of the wrist, and the watch went along like a top. That plan's kept me down in the past—a plan that is doubtless the worst; I always reserve till the last the thing I should tackle at first. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LION'S RIDE by FERDINAND FREILIGRATH THE LAST WORD OF A BLUEBIRD; AS TOLD TO A CHILD by ROBERT FROST THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW BALLAD OF HECTOR IN HADES by EDWIN MUIR STANZAS IN THE MEMORY OF EDWARD QUILLINAN, ESQ. by MATTHEW ARNOLD A QUARTET ('THE MIKADO' AT CAMBRIDGE) by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |