Clocks
GOING ON
CLOCKS
This immemorial clock,
Whose dial is the girth
Of sea and hill and rock,
Entireties of earth,
Sounds with the falling sound
Of silver waters dropping,
So rhythmically bound,
Unaltered and unstopping.
And as those waters brim
The clock of earth and fall,
So round the solar rim
Fall the bright planets all,
Within that clock the sun:
Yet larger clocks than these
Await oblivion-
Altair; the Pleiades.
Structure
18 lines · 2 stanzas