I'm utterly in love.

Eclectic Eccentricity Jewellery — Who Bides Her Time - EE Limited Collection

"EE Editions is a new range of limited edition pieces - each piece in the range will be made in only very small numbers using extra special kooky trinkets and treasures.
It will grow golden in her palm, who bides her time.
Inspired by the poem 'Who Bides His Time' by James Whitcomb Riley, this vintage style pocket watch is a great reminder to be mindful of those minutes! Accompanied by a billowing brass leaf and pure white vintage rose cabochon, and hung from an 18" raw brass vintage chain.
Suspended from an ornate bail which allows you to spin the watch over and reveal a glass sphere encasing the inner workings. Watch them tick the minutes by! Just wind the watch up on a daily basis to keep it to time, no battery required.
Clock face measures 1" (25mm) round. 18" raw brass chain."

Ah man, how beautiful is this little timepiece!? I wish I'd seen it over Christmas where I actually could afford to spend £48.50. There is very little chance in anybody getting me it for my birthday and I know I can't get any more hours at work right now so I don't have any choice. I'm applying for new jobs like it's my favourite pastime! haha. This is the poem they were talking about, beautiful huh?:

James Whitcomb Riley - Who Bides His Time

Who bides his time, and day by day
Faces defeat full patiently,
And lifts a mirthful roundelay,
However poor his fortunes be,
He will not fail in any qualm
Of poverty -- the paltry dime
It will grow golden in his palm,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time -- he tastes the sweet
Of honey in the saltest tear;
And though he fares with slowest feet,
Joy runs to meet him, drawing near;
The birds are hearalds of his cause;
And, like a never-ending rhyme,
The roadsides bloom in his applause,
Who bides his time.

Who bides his time, and fevers not
In the hot race that none achieves,
Shall wear cool-wreathen laurel, wrought
With crimson berries in the leaves;
And he shall reign a goodly king,
And sway his hand o'er every clime
With peace writ on his signet-ring,
Who bides his time.