The speaker counts the hours until a lover arrives. Supper at five and the evening star at six mark time passing, but eight still feels impossibly distant. The whole day is painful, and the only comfort is watching the clock hands creep forward, as if they are laboring to bring the lover closer. Even the mention of five and six only sharpens the ache for eight. Longing makes time feel heavy and slow; each hour becomes an obstacle. Yet there is tenderness too—this is not mere boredom or impatience, but aching for someone. The simple, almost songlike rhythm keeps the feeling intimate rather than dramatic. Sara Teasdale captures that peculiar state of anticipation when the loved one is not here yet, and the clock becomes both a torment and a small hope.
Eight O'Clock — Summary
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.