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Home Thoughts Once More (3) - Druckversion +- Sonett-Forum (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum) +-- Forum: Sonett-Archiv (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=126) +--- Forum: Sonette aus germanischen Sprachen (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=394) +---- Forum: Englische Sonette (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=818) +----- Forum: Autoren B (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=830) +------ Forum: Bowman, Archibald Allan (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1121) +------ Thema: Home Thoughts Once More (3) (/showthread.php?tid=17691) |
Home Thoughts Once More (3) - ZaunköniG - 14.06.2008 Home Thoughts Once More I A week of nights and days once more brings round The Sabbath tide; and once ,again. the heart Sets yearningly to homewards. Do they part At the church door to-day, as when the stound Of disillusioned fancy last unbound Memory's deep wound, and in the bitter smart The vision vanished? Ah, the shadows start To life again across the haunted ground; The kindly farewells said, the sauntering walk Homee, through the sun-baked streets, by twos and twos, The friendly flow of pleasant secular talk, And personalities and trivial news. And the long winding prospect of the day, The feast of children yet shall wile away. II 'Tis July, and a sunny stillness broods On our magnificent England. Misty skies Break into blue, and ripening harvests rise Over her bosom. Her majestic woods Ripple and sway before the varying moods Of the west wind. The roses sacrifice In every garden to the sun. There lies Deep peace o'er all: no sound profane intrudes. Far in the north the solemn mountains keep A sanctuary amongst the shades that dwell In the deep gloom of haunted Highland glens, Where silence awes, and where for ever sleep In lochs unfathomed and inscrutable The shadows of the everlasting Bens. III There is another England, that which feeds Our sinews where the champing engines chide Beneath the settled darkness that doth hide Earth's stricken face from Rotherham to Leeds. Deep in that gloom the blinding furnace bleeds A molten treasure: England is supplied; A million hammers roar along the Clyde; The transport of a million men proceeds. And all this horror of the work of man, Effacing God, I magnify and bless- The way that leads out leading also through, While God goes round to compass His great plan, And out of ashes and of hideousness By curse of toil Creation blooms anew. |