My Grandfather's Clock

My grandfather's clock was to large for the shelf
So it stood ninety years on the floor
It was taller by half than the old man himself
Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born
And was always his treasure and pride
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died.

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro
Many hours had he spent while a boy
And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know
And to share both his grief and his joy.

For it struck twenty-four when he entered the door
With a blooming and beautiful bride
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died.

Ninety years without slumbering
Tick, tock, tick, tock
His life seconds numbering
Tick, tock, tick, tock
It stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died.

And it kept in its place, not a frown upon its face
And its hands never hung by its side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died.

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night
An alarm that for years had been dumb
And we know that his spirit was pluming its flight
That his hour of departure had come.

Still the clock kept the time, with a soft muffled chime
As we silently stood by his side
But it stopped short, never to go again
When the old man died.