Ringing with a chiseled knock-
Dong from my grandfather’s clock;
Halts pure silence to the shock,
Tells the time with a grand rock,
The coming which time does flock.
Yes, it is time that doesn’t lock,
Time that hour is set to mock.
The hour that time does stock,
The hour around the block.
When time moves runs the tick tock.
Time moves on to take its walk.
Its soared passing does not dock.