IT stands upon a little shelf,
And watches everything I do,
And winks and blinks till I am through,
Then says, like some bewitching elf, -
"You 're through, you're through!"
If, impatiently I bide the time,
And find some cause to fume and fret
That expectations linger yet,
It lazily repeats the rhyme, -
"Not yet, not yet!" -
And when I am in haste, you know,
And carelessly miscalculate,
It ticks with pace accelerate,
And then it mocks me as I go, -
"Too late, too late!"
And when my creditors appear,
And threaten savagely to sue,
And say the time is overdue,
An echo from the shelf I hear, -
"Too true, too true!"
And so it prates with mimic awe
At all I do; and if to-day
I name a goal, it seems to say, -
As if rehearsing some old saw, -
"Jamais, Jamais!"
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University Chess Club Tournament.
