Page:Emily Dickinson Poems - third series (1896).djvu/206

 192 POEMS.

��LIII.

A CLOCK stopped not the mantel's ; Can't put the puppet bowing That just now dangled still.
 * Geneva's farthest skill

An awe came on the trinket !

The figures hunched with pain, Then quivered out of decimals

Into degreeless noon.

It will not stir for doctors,

This pendulum of snow ; The shopman importunes it,

While cool, concernless No

Nods from the gilded pointers,

Nods from the seconds slim, Decades of arrogance between

The dial life and him.

�� �