Newspaper Poetry. 108 Years. Updated Daily.

  • The Old Clock

    From the Evening Star, November 27, 1914. By Philander Johnson.

    My Uncle Jim, he has a clock.
        He bought it years ago.
    It used to sound a smart “tick tock,”
        But now it’s kept for show.
    It used to move with nimble hands
        To count the minutes o’er,
    But now its record always stands
        At strictly half-past four.

    “It’s weary now,” said Uncle Jim.
        “It did its work right well;
    And fading into memories dim
        Are tales it used to tell.
    It sort of halted on the way
        It went so well of yore.
    And, finally, it stopped one day
        Right there, at half-past four.

    “That is the hour when I awoke
        To greet the dawn anew,
    And next, the hour that softly spoke
        Of toiling almost through.
    My old clock tells of early day
        Of the rest in store;
    And so I simply let it stay
        Content at half-past four.”