He stood, and heard the steeple <br />Sprinkle the quarters on the morning town. <br />One, two, three, four, to market-place and people <br />It tossed them down. <br /> <br />Strapped, noosed, nighing his hour, <br />He stood and counted them and cursed his luck; <br />And then the clock collected in the tower <br />Its strength, and struck.<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eight-o-clock/
