The Clock in Literature

“Would you mind If I headed up early?” Says the husband To his young wife. “Follow when you like.” Later that evening The beautiful face And exquisite limbs Will rise from the table Of the Southern inn Having been spied By the antihero Across the room Reading an indifferent book. Oh, quick — Let a storm kill the light! But you might as well say it To a wall. We can’t change A single Silver setting, or Even by one day Reduce The bright full moon. The clock in literature Holds that moon. “I know I can’t say A single thing to stop you,” Says the old man at table To the suddenly risen girl. “But sleep on it, will you?” Not now — Not ever. The clock in literature Holds the ancient rune. “I wonder if I might Have a word with you,” Says the antihero To the lissome Dark-eyed angel.