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At God speeded summer's end In my seashaken house On a breakneck of rocks Tangled4 with chirrup and fruit, Froth, flute5, fin6, and quill7 By scummed, starfish sands With their fishwife cross Gulls9, pipers, cockles, and snails10, Out there, crow black, men Tackled with clouds, who kneel To the sunset nets, Geese nearly in heaven, boys Stabbing, and herons, and shells That speak seven seas, Eternal waters away From the cities of nine Days' night whose towers will catch In the religious wind Like stalks of tall, dry straw, At poor peace I sing To you strangers (though song Is a burning and crested11 act, The fire of birds in The world's turning wood, For my swan, splay sounds), Out of these seathumbed leaves That will fly and fall Like leaves of trees and as soon Into the dogdayed night. Seaward the salmon, sucked sun slips, And the dumb swans drub blue My dabbed13 bay's dusk, as I hack14 This rumpus of shapes For you to know How I, a spining man, Glory also this star, bird Roared, sea born, man torn, blood blest. From fish to jumping hill! Look: To the best of my love As the flood begins, Out of the fountainhead Of fear, rage read, manalive, Molten and mountainous to stream Over the wound asleep Sheep white hollow farms To Wales in my arms. Hoo, there, in castle keep, You king singsong owls17, who moonbeam The flickering18 runs and dive The dingle furred deer dead! With Welsh and reverent22 rook, Coo rooning the woods' praise, who moons her blue notes from her nest In your beaks26, on the gabbing27 capes28! Heigh, on horseback hill, jack29 Whisking hare! who Hears, there, this fox light, my flood ship's Clangour as I hew30 and smite31 Hubbub33 and fiddle34, this tune35 On atounged puffball) But animals thick as theives On God's rough tumbling grounds (Hail to His beasthood!). Beasts who sleep good and thin, Hist, in hogback woods! The haystacked Of waters cluck and cling, And barnroofs cockcrow war! O kingdom of neighbors finned37 Felled and quilled, flash to my patch Work ark and the moonshine Drinking Noah of the bay, With pelt38, and scale, and fleece: Only the drowned deep bells Of sheep and churches noise Poor peace as the sun sets And dark shoals every holy field. We will ride out alone then, Under the stars of Wales, Cry, Multiudes of arks! Across The water lidded lands, Manned with their loves they'll move Like wooden islands, hill to hill. Huloo, my prowed dove with a flute! Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox, Tom tit and Dai mouse! My ark sings in the sun At God speeded summer's end And the flood flowers now.
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