Eight O'Clock Poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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.
The poem is short, the time was short till the hanging, but I would not term the poem 'sweet' nor 'profound'. At least it is a comment. ;) bri
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 10:41:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
English poet Housman, born 1859, lived when a death sentence could be hanging with a rope noose around ones neck. Here the clock (on a tower) rang a bell marking the quarter hour till the condemned's death. bri : ) 4 stars