"...one ought every day at least to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words." -Goethe
A poem for today: "Sunday Chimes in the City" by Louise Imogen Guiney
Sunday Chimes in the City
Across the bridge, where in the morning blow
The wrinkled tide turns homeward, and is fain
Homeward to drag the black sea-goer’s chain,
And the long yards by Dowgate dipping low;
Across dispeopled ways, patient and slow,
Saint Magnus and Saint Dunstan call in vain:
From Wren’s forgotten belfries, in the rain,
Down the blank wharves the dropping octaves go.
Forbid not these! Tho’ no man heed, they shower
A subtle beauty on the empty hour,
From all their dark throats aching and outblown;
Aye in the prayerless places welcome most,
Like the last gull that up a naked coast
Deploys her white and steady wing, alone.
Works Cited
Guiney, Louise Imogen (1861-1920). "Sunday Chimes in the City." Poetryfoundation.org. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52021/sunday-chimes-in-the-city. Accessed 12 April 2020.
Velvet Underground. "Sunday Morning." Velvet Underground and Nico, Verve, 1967.
No comments:
Post a Comment