What is tliis ■within my being, Ticking tiojting evermore, Like the sound oi'fairy footfails Dropping on some distant shorei I can lienr it in the midnight, Hear i t in the busy day ; Hear its clc ar aud measured numbers Wheresoe r I chance to stray. On that mystic liltle dial There are cleav and telHng lines, Over which the sunlight glitters, And the passing hour dpfines. Quicker, quicker it is beating, Swifter move those mystic liands, AVith their l-an and spectra! fingers Pointing to the shadowy lands. But the day of life is wanms, Soon its shadows will decline, And within my pirit's dwelling Cease the little mystic chime. Dust o'er ail its motions falling, Gathers drearer day by day, Voices from the íuture calling, Seem to beckon me away. Thrilling tales this clock is telling, As the days and hours recede, Noting every tlicHiglit and action, Yet we give it little heed ; Snnietimes we may hear it linging, Loud and clear tlie passing hour, Sending tlnongh the soui's deep chamber Tones of deep, mysterieus power. Yet we l'old our arras and listen To a tbcmsánd stranger sounds, tVhere the Life-Clock all uniieedfd. Plods its tireless, solemn rounds.