POEM IN OCTOBER Dylan Thomas — Dylan Thomas

Poem : 
        It was my thirtieth year to heaven
     Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
        And the mussel pooled and the heron
                Priested shore
           The morning beckon
     With water praying and call of seagull and rook
     And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall
           Myself to set foot
                That second
        In the still sleeping town and set forth.

        My birthday began with the water-
     Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
        Above the farms and the white horses
                And I rose
            In a rainy autumn
     And walked abroad in shower of all my days
     High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
            Over the border
                And the gates
        Of the town closed as the town awoke.

        A springful of larks in a rolling
     Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
        Blackbirds and the sun of October
                Summery
            On the hill's shoulder,
     Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
     Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
            To the rain wringing
                Wind blow cold
        In the wood faraway under me.

        Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
     And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
        With its horns through mist and the castle
                Brown as owls
             But all the gardens
     Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
     Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
             There could I marvel
                My birthday
        Away but the weather turned around.

        It turned away from the blithe country
     And down the other air and the blue altered sky
        Streamed again a wonder of summer
                With apples
             Pears and red currants
     And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
     Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
             Through the parables
                Of sunlight
        And the legends of the green chapels

        And the twice told fields of infancy
     That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
        These were the woods the river and the sea
                Where a boy
             In the listening
     Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
     To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
             And the mystery
                Sang alive
        Still in the water and singing birds.

        And there could I marvel my birthday
     Away but the weather turned around. And the true
        Joy of the long dead child sang burning
                In the sun.
             It was my thirtieth
        Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
        Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
             O may my heart's truth
                Still be sung


summery and analysis  :



Poem in October is a celebration of Thomas’ thirtieth birthday. Dylan Thomas was born on 27th October 1914. On his birthday early in the morning when the fishing village of Laugharne was still sleeping, he woke up and walked along the silent sea shore. It was drizzling and the season was autumn. As he thinks of his birthday, he is overcome by sentiments of the sacredness of nature. Though the season is autumn, he imagines that it is summer and that he is back in his childhood days.  He climbs up the Fern Hill where he spent his holidays in the farm of his aunt Ann Jones. Laugharne in October reminds the poet of the autumn of his life and then he turns away from it to bring to his mind the wonderful summer mornings of his childhood at Swansea or Fern Hill. Similarly October stands between summer and winter; thirty is poised between childhood and maturity. The poise between childish glory and the sadness of maturity, summer and winter, past and future is maintained to the end. “And I saw in the morning so clearly a child’s
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine”
Now the man of thirty and the boy he remembers are one. Past and present and Swansea and Laugharne are united. The poem is memorable for the demonstration of the poet’s dramatic self-discovery.  It is as if Dylan Thomas, now an older man has to dimensions to move between – childhood and maturity. Beautiful images are introduced in the poem. The springful of larks, the heron priested shore, the birds of the winged trees flying my name, black birds and the sun of October summery on the hill’s shoulder, that his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.

The poet says that life is a journey towards heaven and today he has passed thirty years in his pilgrimage to heaven. On his birthday early in the morning he leaves Laugharne and the scene is so holy that the water seems to be praying while the herons are transformed into priests and praying silently for him. The heron, the seagull the rook and other birds celebrate his birthday, fluttering from the branches of the trees. Thousands of these birds fly over the sea and farms and they see to be waving flags welcoming the poet on his thirtieth birthday. The poet is walking along the seaschore of Laugharene, the fishing village early in the morning in the autumn drizzle and the town is still sleeping. The poet imagines that it is high tide in his life because the age of thirty is the high time of maturity in his life. The heron dived into the sea and the poet dives into his dream world of childhood days. When the town of Laugharene woke up, the poet crossed the border of reality and climbed up the Fern Hill of Swansea, where he spent his childhood days in the farm of his aunt. The autumn season changed into summer and spring. The poet experiences summer weather in autumn and thousands of larks fly in the blue sky on the top of the Fern Hill.

 Suddenly the poet remembers the childhood summers. He is standing on the top of the Fern Hill where his auntie’s farm is situated. He spent his childhood holidays among the apple trees, the barns, the white horses, the hayricks and he was ‘the prince of apple towns’. Now the child in the poet is looking down into the Laugharene town where cold rain was falling in the autumn season. The wood, the harbour, the sea and the church are wet with the cold rain of autumn.  The church is wet in the autumn drizzle. The town with its church is far away. The church looks like a snail with its horns through mist and castle as brown as owls. But here in the Fern Hill, beautiful climate rules. Here is always spring and summer. In his minds eye the seasons are all intermingled and past and present scenes merge. On his thirtieth birth day the poet once again becomes a small boy in Fern

Hill and plays with Nature. Apple trees, pears and red currants are his friends. He remembers those days when he walked with his mother enjoying the sunlight. It was like enjoying the parables in the Bible. When he walked along the woods with his mother enjoying the silent beauty of nature, it was like reading the lives of saints and the sunlight taught him the glory of God. His walk along the woods was like a prayer in the church. Thus the poet learns that Nature is the reflection of God’s glory and beauty. He learned this truth first in his childhood days and now in his adult life.

The poet refers to his childhood which is no more. The poet is very sad that his childhood days are gone forever and those days will never come back to him. His tears rolled through his cheeks.  Those days were the glorious days in his life when “he was prince in the apple towns and honoured among wagons” of his auntie’s farm at Fern Hill. He walked with his mother in the woods, along the river side and talked with the trees and birds and played with the pebbles and the waves of the sea.  The past and present are intermingled here which adds to the beauty of the poem. The tears of the child burned the cheeks of the poet and his heart merged into the poet. Thus the poet even in his thirtieth age identifies himself with his childhood days. His innocent childish mind is not yet changed. That is why the poet can enjoy the beauty and glory of nature even now. When he stands at the top of Fern Hill, he can see far below at Laugharene, ripe leaves are being shed by trees in autumn.

Summary



        On this high hill in a year's turning.