Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

Last Poems. 15. 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.

1. More Poems. 33. On Forelands High in Heaven
2. A Shropshire Lad. 56. The Day of Battle
3. More Poems. 17. Bells in Tower at Evening Toll
4. Last Poems. 39. When Summer’s End Is Nighing
5. More Poems. 21. The World Goes None the Lamer

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Last Poems

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