Читать книгу Dreams and Images: An Anthology of Catholic Poets - Various - Страница 39

Table of Contents

By T. A. Daly

Come, forsake your city street!

Come to God’s own fields and meet October.

Not the lean, unkempt and brown

Counterfeit that haunts the town,

Pointing, like a thing of gloom,

At dead summer in her tomb;

Reading in each fallen leaf

Nothing but regret and grief.

Come out, where, beneath the blue,

You may frolic with the true October.

Call his name and mark the sound,

Opulent and full and round: “October.”

Come, and gather from his hand

Lavish largesse of the land;

Read in his prophetic eyes,

Clear as skies of paradise,

Not of summer days that died,

But of summer fructified!

Hear, O soul, his message sweet.

Come to God’s own fields and meet October.