PS 3527 .14 R7 1920 Copy 1 THEROUNDCLOCK THe 1(0 UIS^ CLOCK BY Beatrice ^ickerson drawings by catherine richardson ??^ PRIVATELY PRINTED 1920 Cofiyright, 1920, by Beatrice JVickerson ^^ q/ ^V D. B. Updike • The Merrymount Press FEB 19 1920 ©G!.Anr>l}7(;4 A\^ I UJ I'A^^ENTY-SIX PIECES DRESSED FOR MY NIECES NEPHEWS AND SONS ALL OTHER ONES WHO READ THIS BOOK OR EVEN LOOK INSIDE ITS CASE MUST TRY TO READ MY ROUND clock's FACE THE HOURS Tkvelve little merry, whirligig foot-fiages. CHARLES LAMB THE ROUJ^D CLOCK ONE o'clock One o'clock Is young and hold^ Bringing deep sleep And frost and cold. He holds the reins of night., He tells her ivhen to pass Beyond our sight. [2 ] THE HOURS TWO o'clock Two o' Clock '.9 A merry felloxu Whistling up the road^ Wearing green and yelloru Like the frog and toad. He is ived to folly Out there in the cold And he ''s fat and jolly Fun to scold. [3] 1 ' ,j^. hmi. THREE O CLOCK 77zree o' Clock '5 Coming from a hall., White she is and stately In the hall! m / m IS \~^^s*<^ It V. ^ \ \ ^. THE HOURS SIX o'clock Six d^ Clock Is heaven On a summer inorn^ Tell it to the ladij^ Brave her scorn; White she xvas and stately In the hall I have loved her lately^ All the fall. [5 ] THE ROUKD CLOCK TWELVE o'clock The -world turns; She breathes in peace., For this next Hour she desires All activity shall cease^ The coal is on the jire: Millions of xvorkers pause And now they use One precious hour for the hodys ivants Their papers to peruse And blessed food., One has a chance to make a fiend And finds that it '.? relief to talk ag-ain^ Another sits and waits until Tlie Hour ends. [ 6 ] FOUR O CLOCK A carter sleeps^ At his feet Lies a child. His van is on the heath., The night is -wild., Twin lambs axvake and bleat - The road is steep In Ireland! THE ROUJVD CLOCK FIVE o'clock Five o'clock Is full of things: There ''s fire and tea For yon and me. In Slimmer it is sad.. The ivood thrush sings atfve o^ Clock., A cotv-bell ring's beside the rock., The boys strayed off to play., I am alone to-day. [ 8] THE HOURS SEVEN o'clock The children pray; I think it is June's longest day — TTie lazy Clock has stopped^ I smell the scent of new-mown hay. Syringa perfumes drop And thunder mutters far away — One child feels hot He xvhispers: '''■ Lightnings will you stay. Please xvatch beside my cotP [9 ] EIGHT O CLOCK Heliotrope^ camellias^ gorgeous plates^ Damask table linen^ tedious waits Stiff -white shirts and collars^ is that cheer f Oh^ those endless dinners! Feasts of yester-year. THE HOURS NINE o'clock " Tlie moon is round — Txvo eijes^ A nose^ And a mouthP He -whispers nonsense^ They are silent And the ruind is south. ''Dear is it late P'' Eyes seek his face But he is gazing into space. She says: '^ I fear the turn of fate., When -winds are south Rain folloxvs drought P She shudders., a great hound Disturbs the moonlit place. ''Darling., all we can know [ H ] THE ROUND CLOCK Until we lie beneath the ground Is that -we love^ and that The moon is round — Tivo eyes^ A nose^ And a mouths [ 12 ] THE HOURS TEN o'clock Ahvays at Mother's^ xvhen The Clod struck Ten She V chase the boys axuay^ Sometimes good-byes xuere gay. Once Charlie i-an And banged the door — My grandmother was ill; Our best dish fell., Broke on the Jloor. Nobody spoke., I ivent upstairs., I could not sleep Or say my prayers.. Not even weep. The moon was like a yelloxv shell Shining across my bed. I knew so ivell [ 13 ] THE ROUJVD CLOCK I V sloxvlij rvaste axoay like that And grow too old to zvear a hat White caps instead. [ 14] THE HOURS ELEVEN o'clock Bumping home from the play Along the roadxvaij. Fine feathers make fine birds ! Somehorv they are not gay^ Margaret stirred — I cannot hear this endless xvay We have to go after the play — It is too far; I hate this stupid car — • We ought to live in town Like Pa^ I ''d be tucked up in bed^ Or else instead Go out to dance with Brown — We might be gay ! Not cold and glum after the play [ 15 ] THE ROUMD CLOCK Noiv xvont you live in town? Don't frown^ I saw you in the lig'ht I ''II make a jight To go back home to town.'''* [ 16 ] OTHER POEMS ASH WEDNESDAY Mortification is vexation And Fasting is as bad^ The Moveables do puzzle me, Shrove Tuesday is quite mad. [ 19 ] THE R UJVD CL O CK THE SCHOOL FOR DAYS Septuagesima keeps a school And tries to teach the days^ The txvo xvho wilhiot learn by rule Are Valentine and May. The greatest joker ''s April Fool., A tease he is and gay; They never know xuhere they ''re to sit Or when to work and play. [20] OTHER POEMS BIRTHDAY / see a stretch of long' white scmd^ It is a warm spring day^ Children are romping hand in hand- We watch them play. A small girl tires of the game And breaks axvay — She asks a boy: " What is your name And when is your birthday?''"' [21 ] THE ROUKD CLOCK DOOMSDAY Doomsday is comings Croaks old Sue^ Because rnoi die of ^''Jiu " Like rats. I wonder . . . He ''II laug'h to see us run And fetch us every one That '5 not snowed under. [22 ] OTHER POEMS ALL saints' day All Saints' Day is loved by all^ It ends the early Fall. Our apple trees are picked quite clean; Their branches look so tall — My eldest boy is ten years old^ I xvish he were still small. [ 23 ] THE ROUJVD CLOCK THE VIGILS Across the sea^ yet not too high To hear the breaking of her waves Beneath the glowing morning sky Stand all those men and girls Who chose for France to die. Tliey could not take their youth along Of it is made one soul to guard that land Promising freedom., food and loving hands To greet the worker staring at the opening day Which comes to shed God''s blessing over all., they say. [ 24] VALENTINE S DAY Here comes old Bishop Valentine^ For centuries he 's had good rhymes With xvhich Icmi't compete: Vll hloxv my verses through the air Towards his spirit hovering there And lay them at his feet. I I THE R O U.VD CL O CK LORD ROBERTS {For Children) Children^ remember well That grand old man^ he fell Back of the xvhining shells. They called him '"''Bobs,,'''' Frail as he was when the war came,, All Europe aflame,, He worked on England'' s job. i Giving his best to all his men Loving them always,, not just now and then. Honour to him xvho nobly ran his race See his brave face Challenging death With his last breath Making his country safe. [ 26 ] OTHER POEMS A MINE manager's BREAKFAST Hoxu the boy ran: Yet thinking some^ He feels that this has come His manhood to arouse^ He knows he must be brave Or else he tiever can His father save. Thank God he''s at the house! He kicks the stubborn gate That tries to make him late. His father '* eating there Tom grabs his chair And gasps .^ then shouts: ' Father I ''ve seen that Bad Jim Clare He boasted he xvould get you out [ 27 ] THE ROUJVD CLOCK And shoot. Bexvm-e ! ''"' There., there., there . . ." His father smiled and spoke First reaching up to take his coat; His pistol xvas right there Beside the chair But he preferred to wear His coat. ''''My son., Toil tvill ?iot come To ivatch the fun. Remember she '.? upstairs., soon Another little one xvill come And sleep and ivake and croon Within this house. Toil are the master here until I come; Ton xvould be nothing better than a skunk If you that job should funk But I xvill come to you again [ 28 ] OTHER POEMS Unless my race is run And jinished quite; If that is so^ -why then Toil ''II just sit tight Until it is your turn to go. And tell your Ma she '* not to mind If I don! t come back from the fun I knoxv she ''II feel as tho' She had been left behind. Good-by my son." [ 29 ] THE ROUJVD CLOCK WHITE CLOVER (^ Fragmeiii) Through the door into the hall Burst the fairest sight of all Filling the room -with fragrant smell — It xvas a borul of clover With its tiny bells. Picked in green fields far arvay Near the sea., Where Aunt lives by Gloucester Bay Carried all the xuay From Newbury. White and fairy-like its bloom Next to the curving stair Catching the fading light within the room., Lost in the dusk Of the gloomy square. [ 30] OTHER POEMS CAPE COD Here stands a xvood of white oak trees Fronting the sea Stripped of their splendid glossy leaves Bereft of greenery. Tet it '5 July., the sun has made Whiter the sands., darker the glade., ^lickening field and tree: Only these trunks of white End in an opal light Of palest rose and lilac grey; Colours of May Like the rare birth of Spring — Alas! she died. To-day The Gypsy Moth is King. [ 31 ] THE ROUKD CLOCK THE GOLDEN AGE Child^ may you ever strive to hold That wondrous gift^ the age of gold Herein described^ — soon childhood '' s past ! Tlie glitter of its years shall last For those so hold and true Who seek that distant^ clearer blue Lying beyond the dirty grey Around us all each sordid day. [ 32 ] OTHER POEMS EAST OF PETERBOROUGH Note : " Petcrboro " means Petcrboro, England, in the days if Mary and Eli-zahcth. '•'■Peterborough" means Peterbor- ough, Neiv Hampshire. Time, the Present. Oh., that I xvere at home With Jingers free to roam Along- the shelves^ I ''d jind a hook Small., bound in green.^ and look Tivo of the poems up again. The years are fed since then., Oh., vivid day! I read till it got dark., when Silent the xvhite snow lay Rejected in the mirrors., all Three set into the northern ivall To brighten twilight's gloom And lift the pall Of grey December night [ 33 ] THE ROUKD CLOCK "The dusk that steals into the room Before the light. I read about a village maid Who put on cap and bells And danced through sun and shade From Bath to Wells. Who does not long to follow? Another song had a refrain (^Mary xvas buried in the rain) ''Cany her dotvn to Peterboro^ Ma'am it is tiventy miles axvay^ Tou '// 7niss the pageant there to-day Right in the streets of Peterborough. Tes Nurse., it \s- late and rue must go., Here I sit dreaming of the snorv., '"''Carry her down to Peterboro .'''' [ -^4 ] OTHER POEMS Where are the jingling bells of May? Burials^ ^eens, I miss to-daij^ " Carry her down to PeterboroT [ 35 ] THE ROUKD CLOCK NEW year's eve with CLOCKS The Clock ticks on and on^ hut then A friendly hand has -wound her up And he xvill come again Raising the key^ her cup. She hopes that she ca?i go Until he come., however slow And so keep true to Time., her master. Naught can he wind for thee., Ticking along without a key Faster and faster Toxvards eternity. Nor clock nor man her slave can see Clearly enough to find the key Held by the Master. [ 36 ]