| |
| SOMEWHAT back from the village street | |
| Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. | |
| Across its antique portico | |
| Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; | |
| And from its station in the hall | 5 |
| An ancient timepiece says to all,— | |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| Half-way up the stairs it stands, | |
| And points and beckons with its hands | 10 |
| From its case of massive oak, | |
| Like a monk, who, under his cloak, | |
| Crosses himself, and sighs, alas! | |
| With sorrowful voice to all who pass,— | |
| “Forever—never! | 15 |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| By day its voice is low and light; | |
| But in the silent dead of night, | |
| Distinct as a passing footstep’s fall, | |
| It echoes along the vacant hall, | 20 |
| Along the ceiling, along the floor, | |
| And seems to say, at each chamber-door,— | |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| Through days of sorrow and of mirth, | 25 |
| Through days of death and days of birth, | |
| Through every swift vicissitude | |
| Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, | |
| And as if, like God, it all things saw, | |
| It calmly repeats those words of awe,— | 30 |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| In that mansion used to be | |
| Free-hearted Hospitality; | |
| His great fires up the chimney roared; | 35 |
| The stranger feasted at his board; | |
| But, like the skeleton at the feast, | |
| That warning timepiece never ceased,— | |
| “Forever—never!” | |
| Never—forever!” | 40 |
| |
| There groups of merry children played, | |
| There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; | |
| O precious hours! O golden prime, | |
| And affluence of love and time! | |
| Even as a miser counts his gold, | 45 |
| Those hours the ancient timepiece told,— | |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| From that chamber, clothed in white, | |
| The bride came forth on her wedding-night; | 50 |
| There, in that silent room below, | |
| The dead lay in his shroud of snow; | |
| And in the hush that followed the prayer, | |
| Was heard the old clock on the stair,— | |
| “Forever—never! | 55 |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| All are scattered now and fled, | |
| Some are married, some are dead; | |
| And when I ask, with throbs of pain, | |
| “Ah! when shall they all meet again?” | 60 |
| As in the days long since gone by, | |
| The ancient timepiece makes reply,— | |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
| Never here, forever there, | 65 |
| Where all parting, pain, and care, | |
| And death, and time shall disappear,— | |
| Forever there, but never here! | |
| The horologe of Eternity | |
| Sayeth this incessantly,— | 70 |
| “Forever—never! | |
| Never—forever!” | |
| |
