The Old Clock
All day low clouds and slanting rainHave swept the woods and dimmed the plain.Wet winds have swayed the birch and oak,And caught and swirled away the smoke,But, all day long, the wooden clockWent on, Nic-noc, nic-noc.
When deep at night I wake with fear,And shudder in the dark to hearThe roaring storm’s unguided strength,Peace steals into my heart at length,When, calm amid the shout and shock,I hear, Nic-noc, nic-noc.
And all the winter long ‘t is IWho bless its sheer monotony—Its scorn of days, which cares no whitFor time, except to measure it:The prosy, dozy, cosy clock,Nic-noc, nic-noc, nic-noc!