Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/134

 THE OLD FAMILY CLOCK.

��So, here thou art, old friend, Ready thine aid to lend,

With honest face, The gilded figures just as bright,

Upon thy painted case, As when I ran with young delight

Their garniture to trace ; Forbidden still thy burnish 'd robe to touch, Yet gazing, with clasp'd hands, admiring long and much.

But where is she who sate Near in her elbow chair, Teaching with patient care Life's young beginner, on thy dial plate To count the winged minutes, fleet and fair, And mark each hour with deeds of love ? Lo ! she hath broke her league with time, and found the rest above.

Thrice welcome, ancient crone !

'Tis sweet to gaze on thee, And hear thy busy heart beat on. -

Come, tell old tales to me ; Old tales, such as I love, of hoar antiquity.

�� �