Читать книгу Poems, 1908-1919 - Drinkwater John - Страница 11

Long ago some builder thrust

Heavenward in Southampton town

His spire and beamed his bells,

Largely conceiving from the dust

That pinnacle for ringing down

Orisons and Noëls.

In his imagination rang,

Through generations challenging

His peal on simple men,

Who, as the heart within him sang,

In daily townfaring should sing

By year and year again.

Now often to their ringing go

The bellmen with lean Time at heel,

Intent on daily cares;

The bells ring high, the bells ring low,

The ringers ring the builder’s peal

Of tidings unawares.

And all the bells’ might well be dumb

For any quickening in the street

Of customary ears;

And so at last proud builders come

With dreams and virtues to defeat

Among the clouding years.

Now, waiting on Southampton sea

For exile, through the silver night

I hear Noël! Noël!

Through generations down to me

Your challenge, builder, comes aright,

Bell by obedient bell.

You wake an hour with me; then wide

Though be the lapses of your sleep

You yet shall wake again;

And thus, old builder, on the tide

Of immortality you keep

Your way from brain to brain.