Classic Poem

You homely Guardian of the Time,
Your virtues let me praise in rhyme,
Ere yet upon the landing wall,
You tell the hours for Dongan Hall.

In clocks 'tis not a lack of grace
To be so large and plain of face,
Or point with such a certain hand,
Up-stairs and down at your command;
They'll see you coming in the door,
They'll see you from the second floor,
And be they early, be they late,
Fair on your face they'll read their fate.

What's more important to be reckoned,
With you a second is d.
Let hours, days, a month go past:
If you're a moment slow or fast,
We'll telephone for Doctor Hammond
And have your cog-wheels all examined.
For fifty years 'twas your repute
To hold the true time absolute,
And you were never known to strike —
What laborer can claim the like?

Such virtues merit high reward;
Therefore I send you to record,
With old fidelity and truth,
The moments of eternal youth.
These girls, who pass you on the stair,
Who come and go, so light of care,
So rich in laughter, gay with tricks,
So solemn with arithmetics:
You'll watch them all, in every mood,
And generally find them good.

Now bring them this one word for me:
Happy may their school-days be;
Be theirs in work, or play, or rest,
The joy of those who do their best,
The love of friends and flowers and rhyme;
The blessings of a perfect time.

A dry old delinquent said, " Think!
Though 'tis long since I've taken a drink,
When I've written a letter
I feel so much better,
I covet no liquid but ink. "