I slept across the front of the
clock,
Close to the long
case-door;
The hours were brought by their
brazen knock
To my ear as the slow
nights wore.
Thus did I, she being sick to death,
That each hour as it belled
Should wake me to rise, and learn by her breath
Whether her strength still held.
Yet though throughout life's midnights all
I would have watched till spent
For her dear sake, I missed the call
Of the hour in which she went.
--Thomas Hardy