The Hall
Clock
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For forty years and five, Ive
told The time in houses new and old: In every corner of the home My
voice still makes the hour known. I never grouse when folk abuse, Or say
they'd rather hear the News When I am chiming; just in case you cannot
see my hands and face. At dead of night, when alls asleep, My watch
on darkest hours I keep: So if you toss and turn, or wake, Or lie and
wait for dawn to break, My voice is sure to tell the time - The hours I
strike and quarters chime. Upon the wall I hang quite numb to incidents,
and also dumb - And yet I speak, as I have said, Forget to wind me.... I
am dead. Though the years have tired my springs, Mechanical wheels and
inner things; Though time has worn a harsher sound And slower move my
hands around; My bells, the milestones of the minutes, Record the passing
of the infinite.
Gillian M Griffiths
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