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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Eight O’Clock

Sara Teasdale

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.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Flame and Shadow | Macmillian, 1920
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