Classic and Contemporary Poetry
FAINT BLOW THE BUGLES OF MEMORY, by IRIS LORA THORPE 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 Hillward, a wild canary cleaves Like a bright arrow the luminous azure, And I am curiously withdrawn From the old dreams...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. | Other Poems of Interest...MEMORY AS A HEARING AID by TONY HOAGLAND THE SAME QUESTION by JOHN HOLLANDER FORGET HOW TO REMEMBER HOW TO FORGET by JOHN HOLLANDER ON THAT SIDE by LAWRENCE JOSEPH MEMORY OF A PORCH by DONALD JUSTICE BEYOND THE HUNTING WOODS by DONALD JUSTICE |
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