Charles Hamilton Sorley (Чарльз Сорли)
Autumn Dawn
And this is morning. Would you think That this was the morning, when the land Is full of heavy eyes that blink Half-opened, and the tall trees stand Too tired to shake away the drops Of passing night that cling around Their branches and weigh down their tops: And the grey sky leans on the ground? The thrush sings once or twice, but stops Affrighted by the silent sound. The sheep, scarce moving, munches, moans. The slow herd mumbles, thick with phlegm. The grey road-mender, hacking stones, Is now become as one of them. Old mother Earth has rubbed her eyes And stayed, so senseless, lying down. Old mother is too tired to rise And lay aside her grey nightgown, And come with singing and with strength In loud exuberance of day, Swift-darting. She is tired at length, Done up, past bearing, you would say. She'll come no more in lust of strife, In hedge's leap, and wild bird's cries, In winds that cut you like a knife, In days of laughter and swift skies, That palpably pulsate with life, With life that kills, with life that dies. But in a morning such as this Is neither life nor death to see, Only that state which some call bliss, Grey hopeless immortality. Earth is at length bedrid. She is Supinest of the things that be: And stilly, heavy with long years, Brings forth such days in dumb regret, Immortal days, that rise in tears, And cannot, though they strive to, set. * * * * * * * The mists do move. The wind takes breath. The sun appeareth over there, And with red fingers hasteneth From Earth's grey bed the clothes to tear, And strike the heavy mist's dank tent. And Earth uprises with a sigh. She is astir. She is not spent. And yet she lives and yet can die. The grey road-mender from the ditch Looks up. He has not looked before. The stunted tree sways like the witch It was: 'tis living witch once more. The winds are washen. In the deep Dew of the morn they've washed. The skies Are changing dress. The clumsy sheep Bound, and earth's many bosoms rise, And earth's green tresses spring and leap About her brow. The earth has eyes, The earth has voice, the earth has breath, As o'er the land and through the air, With wingéd sandals, Life and Death Speed hand in hand—that winsome pair!
16 September 1913
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