Eight O'Clock Poem by Alfred Edward Housman

Eight O'Clock

Rating: 2.9


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.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ratnakar Mandlik 27 May 2017

Short and sweet yet profound.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success