Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell


 

TO THE OCTOBER MORNING


 

BRIGHT, pallid, changing, chill October morn;
Across your windy, keen, exhilarant air
You loom, a cameo dream, a vision fair;
Where through your purples and mauves of skeleton trees—
Friezes of lingering foliage, russet browns,
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And wine-like crimsons, flaming torches, gold,
Of maples, beeches, sumacs, poplars—shine
The horn-like, cloudy windows of the sky.

Nothing on earth more beautiful than this;
To feel your glow, austere, of wintry flame,

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Your exquisite Greek infinities of colour;
And know that inward thrill, that titan vision
Once more Atlantean—the marbled bay,
Th’ Olympian Mountain, Saturn’s mighty Crown;
And hear once more the Tritons sing, and know
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Once more immortal Earth’s old godlike dream.