back ~ home ~ up ~ next

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

A.E. Housman

 

 

[artist]


back ~ home ~ up ~ next