To the Town Clock
Thou grave old Time Piece, many a time and oft
I've been your debtor for the time of day;
And every time I cast my eyes aloft,
And swell the debt--I think 'tis time to pay.
Thou, like a sentinel upon a tower,
Hast thou still announced "the enemy's" retreat,
And now that I have got a leisure hour,
Thy praise, thou old Repeater, I'll repeat.
A very striking object, all must own,
For years you've been, and may for years remain,
And though fierce storms around your head have blown,
Your form erect, and clear and mellow tone,
Despite their violence, you still retain.
A "double face," some foolishly believe,
Of gross deception is a certain sign;
But thy four faces may their fears relieve,
For who can boast so frank a life as thine.
You ne'er disguised your thoughts for purpose mean,
You ne'er conceal'd your knowledge from the crowd,
Like knaves and asses that I've sometimes seen,
But what you knew with fearlessness avow'd.
Time, with his scythe, could never mow you down,
Though you could cut him up in fragments small--
Showing his halves and quarters to the town,
Old Quarter Master General for us all.
Though unambitious, still the highest place
All ranks and classes cheerfully resign,
And "looking up to thee," feel no disgrace
If to "look down on them" thou dost incline.
While some the Graces seek,
And others love the Muse's rosy bowers--
Thou art content from week to week,
To revel with the ever fleeting Hours.
How many curious scenes and odd displays
You've gazed upon, since first you took your stand;
How many sad, how many brilliant days,
You've had a hand in--Oh! that you could hand
Your knowledge down--
Your Log--your Album--all your observations,
Jokes and remarks, on what you've heard and seen;
If besides "note of time," your cogitations
On all the doings that in time have been
You had recorded,
No book would sell so well
About the town,
Nor any author be so well rewarded.
[...] Read more
poem by Joseph Howe
Added by Poetry Lover
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