This day winding down
At God speeded summer's
In the torrent salmon sun,
In my seashaken
On a breakneck of
Tangled with chirrup and fruit,
Froth, flute, fin, and
At a wood's dancing hoof,
By scummed, starfish
With their fishwife
Gulls, pipers, cockles, and snails,
Out there, crow black,
Tackled with clouds, who
To the sunset nets,
Geese nearly in heaven,
Stabbing, and herons, and
That speak seven seas,
Eternal waters
From the cities of
Days' night whose towers will
In the religious
Like stalks of tall, dry straw,
At poor peace I
To you strangers (though
Is a burning and crested act,
The fire of birds
The world's turning wood,
For my swan, splay sounds),
Out of these seathumbed
That will fly and
Like leaves of trees and as
Crumble and
Into the dogdayed night.
Seaward the salmon, sucked sun slips,
And the dumb swans drub
My dabbed bay's dusk, as I
This rumpus of
For you to
How I, a spining man,
Glory also this star,
Roared, sea born, man torn, blood blest.
Hark:
I trumpet the place,
From fish to jumping hill!
Look:
I build my bellowing
To the best of my
As the flood begins,
Out of the
Of fear, rage read, manalive,
Molten and mountainous to
Over the wound
Sheep white hollow
To Wales in my arms.
Hoo, there, in castle keep,
You king singsong owls, who
The flickering runs and
The dingle furred deer dead!
Huloo, on plumbed bryns,
O my ruffled ring dovein the hooting, nearly
With Welsh and reverent rook,
Coo rooning the woods' praise,who moons her blue notes from her
Down to the curlew herd!
Ho, hullaballoing
Agape, with
In your beaks, on the gabbing capes!
Heigh, on horseback hill,
Whisking hare!
Hears, there, this fox light, my flood
Clangour as I hew and smite(A clash of anvils for
Hubbub and fiddle, this
On a tongued puffball)But animals thick as
On God's rough tumbling grounds(Hail to His beasthood!).
Beasts who sleep good and thin,
Hist, in hogback woods!
The
Hollow farms in a
Of waters cluck and cling,
And barnroofs cockcrow war!
O kingdom of neighbors
Felled and quilled, flash to my
Work ark and the
Drinking Noah of the bay,
With pelt, and scale, and fleece:
Only the drowned deep
Of sheep and churches
Poor peace as the sun
And dark shoals every holy field.
We will ride out alone then,
Under the stars of Wales,
Cry, multitudes of arks!
The water lidded lands,
Manned with their loves they'll
Like wooden islands, hill to hill.
Hulloo, my prowed dove with a flute!
Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox,
Tom tit and Dai mouse!
My ark sings in the
At God speeded summer's
And the flood flowers now.
