Supper comes at five o'clock, At six, the evening star, My lover comes at eight o'clock But eight o'clock is far. How could I bear my pain all day Unless I watched to see The clock-hands laboring to bring Eight o'clock to me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRUEL MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW THE OLD MILL by THOMAS DUNN ENGLISH AT BETHLEHEM: 3. TO HIS MOTHER by JOHN BANISTER TABB PRINCE ALDFRITH'S ITINERARY THROUGH IRELAND by ALDFRITH SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 38. THE RETREAT FROM MOSCOW by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ONE DOES NOT WHOLLY DIE by COE BOTKIN |