Читать книгу Hazards - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 23

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Beneath the elms through the long afternoon

He gazes over the meadow’s level tide

Of glistening buttercups, a surge of yellow

That breaks in a silvery hawthorn-foam beneath

The further cliff-like elms, whose cloudy masses

Seem but the shadows of the elm-like clouds,

Piling their snowy cumulus in the blue;

And, as his eyes drink in deep draughts of yellow,

Deep draughts of golden wine into his heart

Pour till his veins are filled with golden fire,

And all his body is one quivering flame

That ripples to the singing of the larks,

Fountain on fountain jetting in the air

And spilling in the sun a ceaseless music.

The draff and dross of man’s mortality

And age’s heaviness purged from his blood,

One golden afternoon again his heart

Glows as in boyhood with the singing fire

And golden fervour of immortal May.