There, by the starlit fences, The wanderer halts and hears My soul that lingers sighing About the glimmering weirs. - Alfred Edward Housman

We now to peace and darkness And earth and thee restore Thy creature that thou madest And wilt cast forth no more.

But from my grave across my brow Plays no wind of healing now, And fire and ice within me fight Beneath the suffocating night.

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.