Artist

Alexander Averin

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Poem in October




This poem is for Mark as he chose it for his Desert Island. (see previous post).

My favourite lines?


   And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
     Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
             Through the parables
                Of sunlight
        And the legends of the green chapels


 A great choice. I shall post others' favorites soon.


POEM IN OCTOBER


        It was my thirtieth year to heaven
     Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
        And the mussel pooled and the heron
                Priested shore
           The morning beckon
     With water praying and call of seagull and rook
     And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall
           Myself to set foot
                That second
        In the still sleeping town and set forth.

        My birthday began with the water-
     Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
        Above the farms and the white horses
                And I rose
            In a rainy autumn
     And walked abroad in shower of all my days
     High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
            Over the border
                And the gates
        Of the town closed as the town awoke.

        A springful of larks in a rolling
     Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
        Blackbirds and the sun of October
                Summery
            On the hill's shoulder,
     Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
     Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
            To the rain wringing
                Wind blow cold
        In the wood faraway under me.

        Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
     And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
        With its horns through mist and the castle
                Brown as owls
             But all the gardens
     Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
     Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
             There could I marvel
                My birthday
        Away but the weather turned around.

        It turned away from the blithe country
     And down the other air and the blue altered sky
        Streamed again a wonder of summer
                With apples
             Pears and red currants
     And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
     Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
             Through the parables
                Of sunlight
        And the legends of the green chapels

        And the twice told fields of infancy
     That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
        These were the woods the river and the sea
                Where a boy
             In the listening
     Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
     To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
             And the mystery
                Sang alive
        Still in the water and singing birds.

        And there could I marvel my birthday
     Away but the weather turned around. And the true
        Joy of the long dead child sang burning
                In the sun.
             It was my thirtieth
        Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
        Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
             O may my heart's truth
                Still be sung
        On this high hill in a year's turning.


Dylan Thomas 


Let me know your choice and I will try and post it for you.

6 comments:

Elisabeth said...

Dylan Thomas's words and yours a breath of fresh air in an otherwise tiring day. Thank you.

Tracy Golightly-Garcia said...

Hello Cait

Don't know much about Dylan Thomas but I do love this poem. That's one of the reasons why I love blogging--learning new things.

Where is the picture made? I see a heart~look where the boat is.

Love it!!

Best
Tracy :)

Marion Williams-Bennett said...

What a beautiful poem, thank you for bringing it to us.

I grew up near the sea and am now facing a big birthday; this part resonated with me


..These were the woods the river and the sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singing birds.

Mac n' Janet said...

Absolutely heartbreakingly beautiful. Thank you.

Frances said...

Cait, I love the Paul Henry painting, and the Dylan Thomas poem, and thank you for giving both of them to us over the air.

Hoping that you are feeling more well and even more well in the days to come.

I walked across Central Park today for the first time since our very odd pre-season snowfall. It was odd to see how autumn 2011's weather still plays with our expectations. Lots of green leaves still on the trees, lots of trees have given up vintage branches after the snowfall put too much weight on their fully green-leafed arms.

I wish that my walking pace could have slowed a bit to allow me to look for birds, acorns, and have a more relaxed view of this season's beauty. (I don't think that I saw a single bird...not even a pigeon.)

xo

Mark said...

Thank you Cait - what can I say; great choice if you ask me!