ALittle Anthology of British Poets
Edited by D. S. Savage
Poem
It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell claps me to churches
When, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulphur priest,
His beast heel cleft in a sandal,
Time marks a black aisle kindle from the brand of ashes,
Grief with dishevelled hands tear out the altar ghost
And a firewind kill the candle.
Over the choir minute I hear the hour chant:
Time's coral saint and the salt grief drown a foul sepulchre
And a whirlpool drives the prayerwheel;
Moonfall and sailing emperor, pale as their tideprint,
Hear by death's accident the clocked and dashed-down spire
Strike the sea hour through bellmetal.
There is loud and dark directly under the dumb flame,
Storm, snow and fountain in the weather of fireworks,
Cathedral calm in the pulled house;
Grief with drenched book and candle christens the cherub time
From the emerald, still bell; and from the pacing weathercock
The voice of bird on coral prays.
Forever it is a white child in the dark-skinned summer
t of the font of bone and plants at that stone tocsin
es the blue wall of spirits;
rom blank and leaking winter sails the child in colour,
es, in crabbed burial shawl, by sorcerer's insect woken,
· g dong from the mute turrets.
mean by time the cast and curfew rascal of our marriage,
t nightbreak hom in the fat aide, from an animal bed
a holy room in a wave;
d
all
love's sinners in sweet cloth kneel to a hyleg image,
utmeg, civet, and sea-parsley serve the clapped groom and bride
ho have brought forth the urchin grief.
DYLAN THOMAS
91
