120 THE OLD FAMILY CLOCK.
Peering through the humid eye, Like star-beam in a misty sky ; Though the nurse, standing still more near, Saw nothing but the body's growing wealth,
And praised that fair machine of clay, Working, in mystery and health, Its wondrous way.
Thy voice was like a knell Chiming all mournful with the funeral bell, When stranger-feet came gathering slow To see the master of the mansion borne To that last home, the narrow and the low, From whence is no return.
A sluggard wert them to the impatient breast
Of watching lover, or long-parted wife, Counting each moment, while the day unblest, Like wounded snake, its laggard length did draw ;
And blaming thee, as if the strife Of wild emotion should have been thy law, When.thou wert pledg'd in amity sublime, To crystal-breasted truth and sky-reporting time.
Glad signal thou hast given
For the gay bridal, when with flower -wreath'd hair, And flushing cheek, the youthful pair Stand near the priest with reverent air,
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