The world has turned for another hour.

The bell said so in the stone tower.

And though it spoke to the minds of men,

What they heard was the clock strike ten.

But the bell said "One" to all who sleep,

To all who dream, or stare and weep.

At the two, the men in the street below

Looked up and felt in their faces snow.

Three was heard in a thousand rooms

Sounding a thousand joys and dooms.

Sorrow listened to hollow four

By lonely bed and stair and door.

Lovers paused to hear the five,

Then leaned and kissed for being alive.

There were sighs at six, when i It warned "Late . "

Some would have gone. some whispered "Wait . ."

The iron seven woke sleepy birds.

Men remembered between two words.

Eight shook echoes down the dark air

Like a girl in the night her long hair.

Thin-lipped men, on the stroke of nine,

Turned back to the "me" and "I" and "mine".

When the grave slow bell intoned its ten,

The world began to forget again.