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Dylan Thomas - Poem In OctoberDylan Thomas - Poem In October
Work rating: Medium


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 net 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 rainy autumn And walked abroad in a 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 sun light 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 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 singingbirds.    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.
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