Women in Kentucky - Reform

THE OLD TOWN CLOCK

By Josephine K. Henry
Versailles, KY

 

There’s a stately public building

on the main street of the town

In which every citizen owns a

share of stock

And in the tower of this “Temple

of Justice”

Is the permanent office of the

old town clock

 

For generations political wars

have raged around it

Waged by candidates active,

smiling and bland

But the old town clock never

went into politics

And is still doing business at

the same old stand

 

It never wore a political collar

or a union labor badge

But in the business and home

life of the town its a power

It has never asked for a raise of

salary for its services

Though it goes out on a strike

every hour

 

For generations its looked down

on court day crowds,

It has seen lusty youths change

to tottering old men

It has rung out the old and rung

in the new

Officials court and councils

again and again.

 

It has chimed the hour for weddings

and political harangues

It pealed a welcome home for

our soldiers boys who fought

and bled

For generations to public worship

it has solemnly called,

And tolled a requiem as we bore

our loved ones to the “City of

the Dead.”

The old town clock is a helpful

friend to all

But it never meddles with the

public or private affairs of

the people

It speaks eloquently to all in a

language all its own,

And attends strictly to its own

business up in the steeple.

Oft when sleepless and restless

in the silence of the night,

As thought wanders back o’er

Life’s tortuous track

When the old clock’s pensive

strokes float o’er the sleeping

town

Then the mind is thronged with

memories and lost years come

stealing back,

In summer and in winter, by

day and by night

Whether our hearts are filled

with gladness or with sadness

The old clock never halts on its

winding way.

 

Through all the hours, weeks,

months and years,

When the old clock strikes the

die is cast.

Into the tideless everlasting

hours have flown

Reminding us life’s tide is ebbing

out so fast.

Oh, loyal public servant, sleep-

Less sentinel in the tower

When the treasure house of

memory I unlock

My heart wells up with gratitude

and veneration

For the every faithful Old Town

Clock.