It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour woodAnd the mussel pooled and the heronPriested shoreThe morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wallMyself to set footThat secondIn the still sleeping town and set forth.My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my nameAbove the farms and the white horsesAnd I roseIn rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the roadOver the borderAnd the gatesOf the town closed as the town awoke.A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistlingBlackbirds and the sun of OctoberSummeryOn the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listenedTo the rain wringingWind blow coldIn the wood faraway under me.Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snailWith its horns through mist and the castleBrown as owlsBut 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 marvelMy birthdayAway but the weather turned around.It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered skyStreamed again a wonder of summerWith applesPears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his motherThrough the parablesOf sun lightAnd the legends of the green chapelsAnd 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 seaWhere a boyIn 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 mysterySang aliveStill in the water and singingbirds.And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the trueJoy of the long dead child sang burningIn 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 truthStill be sungOn this high hill in a year's turning.
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