Henry Clay Work

(1 October 1832 – 8 June 1884 / Middletown, Connecticut)

Henry Clay Work Poems

1. Now Moses 1/3/2003
2. The Buckskin Bag Of Gold 1/3/2003
3. Sweet Echo Dell 1/3/2003
4. Tis Finished 1/3/2003
5. Our Last Grand Camping Ground 1/3/2003
6. Pity Me, Loo! 1/3/2003
7. Phantom Footsteps 1/3/2003
8. The Fire Bells Are Ringing 1/3/2003
9. The Mystic Veil 1/3/2003
10. Nellie Lost And Found 1/3/2003
11. Where's My Billy Goat Gone To? 1/3/2003
12. When You Get Home, Remember Me 1/3/2003
13. Shadows On The Floor 1/3/2003
14. Uncle Joe's Hail Columbia 1/3/2003
15. We'Ll Go Down Ourselves 1/3/2003
16. The Parrot And The Billy-Goat 1/3/2003
17. Ring The Bell, Watchman! 1/3/2003
18. The First Love Dream 1/3/2003
19. Mac O'Macorkity 1/3/2003
20. Watching For Pa 1/3/2003
21. The Lost Letter 1/3/2003
22. The Prayer On The Pier 1/3/2003
23. Poor Kitty Popcorn 1/3/2003
24. Our Captain's Last Words 1/3/2003
25. No Letters From Home! 1/3/2003
26. Tie The Knot Tightly 1/3/2003
27. The Girls At Home 1/3/2003
28. Marching Through Georgia 1/3/2003
29. Who Shall Rule This American Nation? 1/3/2003
30. Song Of A Thousand Years 1/3/2003
31. The Silver Horn 1/3/2003
32. There Is A River We All Must Cross 1/3/2003
33. The Song Of The Red Man 1/3/2003
34. Used-Up Joe 1/3/2003
35. Take Them Away! They'Ll Drive Me Crazy 1/3/2003
36. When The Evening Star Went Down 1/3/2003
37. Lillie Of The Snowstorm 1/3/2003
38. The Old Village Doctor 1/3/2003
39. Columbia's Guardian Angels 1/3/2003
40. Beautiful Rose 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Henry Clay Work

Grand-Father's Clock

My grand-father's clock was too 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 penny weight more.
It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born,
And was always his treasure and pride;
But it stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

Ninety years, without slumbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
His life seconds numbering (tick, tick, tick, tick)
It stopp'd short never to go again
When the old man died.

In watching its pendulum swing to and ...

Read the full of Grand-Father's Clock

Shadows On The Floor

Saturday night! Saturday night!
The hope that lingered has taken to flight;
From morning till evening, the weary week through,
In vain has he battled for something to do.
Poor man! emptyhanded, how can he return
To those whose fate hangs on the pence he may earn?
How can he reply to his questioner sweet --
"Did Papa bring Papa's girl somethin' to eat?"

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