The Cuckoo-Clock Shop

You can't see Time,

But if you go

To the Cuckoo-clock Shop

In the old brick row,

Where a kindly gentleman

Bends all day

With a glass to his eye

And springs in a tray;

Where carved clocks hang

All clustered thick,

You'll hear Time pass—

For click, click, click,

Each wee brown door

Will open wide

And the Cuckoo Bird

That lives inside

Will poke out his head

And say, "Cuckoo!"

As often as Time

Has told him to!