110
THE HOROLOGE OF THE FIELDS.
THE HOROLOGE OF THE FIELDS.
Addressed to a Young Lady, on seeing at the House of an
Acquaintance a magnificent French Timepiece.
For her who owns this splendid toy,
Where use with elegance unites,
Still may its index point to joy,
And moments wing'd with new delights.
Sweet may resound each silver bell,—
And never quick returning chime,
Seem in reproving notes to tell,
Of hours mispent, and murder'd time.
