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.
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.
He stood and counted them and cursed his luck;
And then the clock collected in the tower
Its strength, and struck.