Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FAINT BLOW THE BUGLES OF MEMORY, by IRIS LORA THORPE



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FAINT BLOW THE BUGLES OF MEMORY, by            
First Line: This is the morning of remembrance
Last Line: The bugles of that vanished dawn.
Subject(s): Bugles; Memory


This is the morning of remembrance,
This shining hour quickening
Into aureous splendour. In the garden
Mist thins to amber shreds, a blue wing
Flashes over water; a garter-snake slides
Like a rope of glistening jet
Through grasses, rain-beaded, iridescent...
This is the hour! I must not forget
Yesterday's grave vows, nor how the glowing world
Crumbled in a breath, and a great
Silence fell upon the day, a silence
No sound could penetrate...

But the branches of the catalpa lift
In a petal-scented wind, leaves
Sun-foiled, loosen a shower of glittering notes.
Hillward, a wild canary cleaves
Like a bright arrow the luminous azure,
And I am curiously withdrawn
From the old dreams... But faintly now resound
The bugles of that vanished dawn.





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