• Author: Unknown
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 5
• Page Number:
• Date: 7 26 1916
• Tags:
• poetry
• riddle

The clock, methinks, is a disgrace, Although it seldom shirks, It holds its hands before its face, And then runs down good works. It beats the seconds, strikes the time, And has a shameful trick Of showing impudence sublime White running on on tick.