It was my thirtieth year to
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood And the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore The morning
With water praying and call of seagull and
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That
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
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
Of the town closed as the town awoke. A springful of larks in a
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
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Wind blow
In the wood faraway under me. Pale rain over the dwindling
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
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud. There could I marvel My
Away but the weather turned around. It turned away from the blithe
And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples Pears and red
And I saw in the turning so clearly a
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother Through the parables Of sun
And the legends of the green chapels And the twice told fields of
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
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide. And the mystery Sang
Still in the water and singingbirds. And there could I marvel my
Away but the weather turned around.
And the true Joy of the long dead child sang burning In the sun. It was my
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood. O may my heart's truth Still be
On this high hill in a year's turning.
