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. 9. When Green Buds Hang in the Elm Like Dust
2. More Poems. 11. The Rainy Pleiads Wester
3. Additional Poems. 13. Oh Turn not in from Marching
4. Additional Poems. 4. It Is No Gift I Tender
5. Additional Poems. 5. Here Are the Skies, the Planets Seven

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Last Poems

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