Every tick and every tock
That comes from my old clock,
  Keeps time to Molly's step;
And when it cries 'Cuckoo,'
Her hand should knock below.

Unless - for now I see
The clock looks down at me
  With a white and silent face-
It stops, and not one beat
Keeps time to Molly's feet.

Then, staring at that clock,
Whose every tick and tock
  Should be one step of hers,
'Why have you stopped.' I said-
'Has Molly dropped down dead?'