Dylan Thomas

(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

Poem In October


It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
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 autumn
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 gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.

A springful of larks in a rolling
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 suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.

Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
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 gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.

It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sun light
And the legends of the green chapels

And 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 sea
Where a boy
In 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 mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singingbirds.

And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In 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 truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
8 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Form:


Read poems about / on: october, weather, summer, water, truth, rain, child, fish, joy, autumn, heaven, sun, sea, river, spring, rose, green, mother, red, poem

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Poem In October by Dylan Thomas )

  • Rookie - 58 Points Brian Jani (4/26/2014 2:19:00 AM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Cecilia Nicoletti (2/28/2007 6:02:00 AM)

    Oktubre, as I use to say.Oh Red October is not an easy month to be born at.This is a too many times readed poem and everytime we can read it different.Can I make an intelligent comment.No..I leave it to brilliant ones.
    Oktubre is red and purple. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Famous Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  3. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  4. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  8. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe
Trending Poets
Trending Poems
  1. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  4. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  5. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  6. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  7. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  8. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  9. The Highwayman, Alfred Noyes
  10. Daffodils, William Wordsworth
[Hata Bildir]