Page 254 - The model orator, or, Young folks' speaker : containing the choicest recitations and readings from the best authors for schools, public entertainments, social gatherings, Sunday schools, etc. : including recitals in prose and verse ...
P. 254

It stopped  when  it  liked,  and  before  it  struck
                                    It  croaked  as  if  ’twere  in  pain.
                                  It  had  seen  many  years,  and  it seemed to  say,
                                   " I ’m  one  of  the  real  old  stock/1
                                  To  the  youthful  boy,  who,  with  reverence,  looked
                                    Oil  the  face  of  the  old  school  clock*

                                  I lew  many  a  time  I  have  labored  to sketch
                                    That yellow  and  time-honored  face,
                                  With  its  basket  of  flowers,  its  figures and  hands,
                                    And  the  weights  and  chains  in  their place 1
                                  How  oft  have  1  gated  with admiring  eye,
                                    A s  I  i^at  on  the wooden  block,
                                  And  pondered  and  guessed  at  the 'wonderful  things
                                    That  were  inside  that  old  school  clock,
                                  What  a  terrible  frown  did  the  old  clock  wear
                                    To  the  truant  who  timidly  cast
                                  An  anxious  eye  on  those merciless  hands,
                                    That  for  him  had  been  moving  too  fasti
                                  But  its  frown  soon  changed,  for it  loved to  smile
                                    On  the  thoughtless,  noisy flock,
                                  And  it creaked  and  whined  and struck with  glee
                                    Did  that  genial,  good-humored  dock.

                                  Well, years  had  passed,  and my  mind  was filled
                                    With  the  world,  its  cares  and ways,
                                  When  again  T  stood  in  that  little  school
                                    Where  1  passed  my  boyhood's  days.
                                  My  old  friend  was  gone!  and  there  hung  a thing
                                    That  my  sorrow  seemed  to  mock,
                                 A s  I  gazed with  a tear and  a softened heart
                                    A t  a  new-fashioned  Yankee  dock.

                                  fTwas  a  gaudy  thing,  with  bright  painted  sides,
                                    And  it  looked  with an  insoient  stare
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