Alfred Edward Housman

(26 March 1859 – 30 April 1936 / Worcestershire)

Poems of 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.

[Hata Bildir]