Current Issue About Editorial Note Archives Submitting Links		Nicholas Messenger Winding It Up. To the house that winds up comes the time for a patriarchal ceremony. The enormous brassy key is taken from the chimney. All the family solemnly stand round to see the measured operation, while the cogs turn inches, and the coiled spring clenches its blue glacier of steel. Now for a fortnight longer it continues ticking : lights go on and off, the taps run, and the properly oiled mechanism puts the dinner on the table, the alarm in the awakening clock, the sleep in beds, the gossip flickering. Flowerbeds and the letterbox keep working, and the harmless rodents run like bobbins along their tunnels. The affections meshing, exercise their imperceptibly gradual revolutions. Next Poem
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