Last Poems (Housman)/Eight O'Clock
XV
Eight O'Clock
Eight O'Clock
He stood, and heard the steeple Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town.One, two, three, four, to market-place and people It tossed them down.
Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, He stood and counted them and cursed his luck;And then the clock collected in the tower Its strength, and struck.