THE SENTINEL

“Tick! tick! tick!” goes the old clock in the hall; The merry hours, the mournful hours Alike he counts them all As he stands erect at his post, Time’s solemn Sentinel. All that he hath to say he saith, And on, with never a pause for breath, He hurries us nearer the day of death. Though his warning voice is ofttimes drowned In the whirr, as the wheels of life run round, Yet, whether or no we hear the sound,— “Tick! tick! tick!” goes the old clock in the hall; The merry hours, the mournful hours Alike he counts them all, As he stands erect at his post, Time’s solemn Sentinel.