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
And was always his treasure and pride.
But it stopped short, Never to go again,
In watching its pendulum swing to and fro,
Many hours had he spent while a boy;
And to share both his grief and his joy.
With a blooming and beautiful bride.
But it stopped short, Never to go again,
Ninety years without slumbering
It stopped short, Never to go again
And its hands never hung by its side;
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
That his hour of departure had come.
Still the clock kept the time,