The Clock of Life by Robert H. Smith
The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
To lose one’s wealth is sad indeed,
To lose one’s health is more,
To lose one’s soul is such a loss
That no man can restore.
The present only is our own,
So Live, Love, toil with a will
Place no faith in “Tomorrow”
For the clock may then be still.
Robert H. Smith
Lingua Franca 
Please could somebody tell me what the H stands for? it only ever says The clock of life by Robert H Smith. I have looked everywhere to no avail Thankyou.
Hi Joy:
Sorry, but couldn’t find it either. Google isn’t helping me with this search.
Good Luck,
Omar.-
The poem was attributed to a Robert Smith in the 1930’s. Fact of the matter is that it was written by Wilfred Grindle Conary prior to that, as he passe away in 1928.
Was this poem ever published by Wilfred Conary in a way that could be properly cited?
Thank you for answering me about the clock of life, its a shame i cant solve the H my dad recently died and his name was herbert smith and he loved this poem, just wanted to find out if it stood for herbert. joy
It stands for Hilton.
There seems to be a Robert Hilton Smith,(1928 – 2009), an American in property. Could Smith, the poet be a Hilton as well? If not, Joy’s question remains unanswered.
i really think this poem is beautiful and it is trying to say ”live you life to the fullest before you run out of time” see the clock starts when you are born and stops when you die …(:
Had to read this poem out for my grandad’s funeral , it was his and his deceased brothers favorite ..
It is a very good poem, so i hope it will stay in our family
love this poem, i bought a magnet with it on it, just wanted to know who wrote it
Hi Vicky,
There is a long list of people who have claimed credit for this. However, my grandfather, Wilfred Grindle Conary, passed away in 1928, and I have the original in his handwriting sitting here near my desk at my office.
Hi Vicky, there has been a lot of speculation regarding the author. My belief is that my grandfather, Wilfred Grindle Conary, wrote it. His wife, my “Nana Hazel”, gave me the original writing by my grandfather, Wilfred Grindle Conary, many years ago. It sits here in my office. Since my grandfather passed away in 1928, I have difficulty accepting that someone else wrote it in 1930.
David A. Conary
I have a copy of your grandfather’s poem, The Clock of Life, in my office and have discovered several individuals have claimed to have written the poem. Good to know the actual author and I appreciate the information you provided.
Rev. Larry Dunster
Columbia, SC
MR. Smith, my name is Marea Hobson and I’ve written a book about the life of my son Lance.
Lance passed away on 30th April 1996 due to blunt head trauma during a boxing match.
Lance used the words of your poem..the clock of life..in his daily life and I would like to place the poem in my book.
Would you be able to give me written permission to publish the poem, with your name as the author?
Lance was only 23 when he died.
Your poem was kept on the wall of our gym, and it mirror’s Lance’s life.
Thank You
Marea Hobson
Hi Marea, I apologize, but just noticed this on the site that follows THE CLOCK OF LIFE. First and most important, I feel badly for the loss of your son. I feel better that it mirrors your son’s life. The actual poet was my grandfather, Wilfred Grindle Conary. I have the original, in his handwriting, on the wall here in my office. That poem, and one other, triggered my love for poetry, and led to my inclusion into the Marquis Who’s Who in Poetry, and my inclusion into the Cranston, R.I. Hall of Fame. My email address is thedavid3127@gmail.com should you care to use it to get back in touch with me.
David A. Conary
This poem was not written by Robert H Smith…this was written by a lady of the last name Weaver…first name I believe was Jane…formerly of Hamilton Ontario,Canada.
I have the original, written by my grandfather Wilfred G. Conary here in my office, in his handwriting. Any claims after that are false, as he passed away in 1928,
Thanks,
David A. Conary
Well done, David A Conary. Glad to see this. The original work of many poets is often attributed to others
There is more to this poem… I have an heirloom 1893 Seth Thomas Mantel Clock in which I found a printed card with “The Great Clock” poem along with an old photograph of Bessie McCoy, who gifted the clock to my ancestor, Jack Peters. The full text of the poem reads as follows:
The Great Clock
The clock of life is wound but once,
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hand will stop.
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own;
Love, love, toil with a will,
Plan no faith in tomorrow for
The clock may then be still.
Wear today a cheerful face
In everything you do.
The sunshine that you radiate
Will shine tight back at you.
Speak today a word of hope
To someone in distress;
When you lift another’s load
You make your burdens less.
Do today a gracious deed
And do it with a smile;
It’s little daily acts like these
That make your life worth while.
I would dearly like to know the author of this poem – and I was unable to find the entire text or anything confirming that Smith or Weaver is the author. Any clues would be greatly appreciated. God bless!
Good morning,..I will inquire some more,but have dates on this poem that goes back a lot farther than 1893.
I also have this poem embroidered on material from way back when.
Two people that were getting this poem registered,were Irene Salvisburg of Hamilton Ontario,Canada,and John R.Smith former member of parliament,now a minister in Hamilton Ontario,Canada.They were able to prove that Eva Weaver,did in fact write this poem.Something was registered at city hall,Hamilton Ont.I’m not sure what it was,but will try and find out.
Mr Smith is still alive,and is still ministering,in Hamilton(Anglican),the R in his name is Ricki,in case you would like to further this yourself.
In the mean time I will still try to pursue this,and let you know,if I have any new findings.
I remain, respectfully, John Brason
This is a very powerfull poem. There are many versions and I have one
that I always say each day. It reminds me how thanfull I am to wake up each morning and start a new day. Our life is not like a baseball game where you get three strikes and your out, we only have one so lets hit a homer each day we play the game. “God Bless All Of You” that have taken the time to read my reply.
Respectfully,
Johnny Battiato
My Grandmother gave me a copy of The Clock of Life, which she claims my Grandfather, Wilfred G. Conary, wrote originally. The copy, in his handwriting, is framed and hanging on my wall. I just know it was not written later than 1928, because that is the year my Grandfather died.
If anyone doubts that my grandfather wrote this prior to his death in 1928, Google Wilfred Grindle Conary.
David, that poem signed by your father does not indicate that he wrote it. I am not saying that it is not possible, or that you are being deceptive, but that is not an historical website that can be used to authenticate anything. I’m sure you must realize that.
Hi Dana. First it was signed by my grandfather, not my father. Secondly, I would sooner believe in a signed hard copy (in my possession) than an historical website. In addition to that, his passing in 1928 makes it difficult to believe that it was written after his death.
I was given an old pendulum wall clock by my step-grandfather. Inside I found a small card printed by the manufacturer on which it had a shortened version of this poem. It reads:
The clock of life is wound but once
And no man has the power
To tell just when the hands will stop
At late or early hour.
Now is the only time you own,
Live, love, toil with a will.
Place no faith in “tomorrow” for
The clock may then be still.
I want to live by these words, but it has been difficult. So I look at the card once-in-a-while to try to be inspired to make a change.
Thanks you so much, Maurice, for your acceptance and honoring my grandfather’s life in this manner. As I sit here at my computer, his poem hangs framed on the wall beside me.
David…I also have an original hand written copy of this poem that was attributed to my grandfather because of the fact it was handwritten by him.We had the poem published in our local paper back in 1961 after he passed in which we attributed it to him. In the years since I have read three different accounts of how someone found the poem hand written by their grandfather. I suspect that over the decades many copied down the poem, as it is lovely. I fear we will never know the true author.