Poem In October By Dylan Thomas (part I)

It was my thirtieth year to heaven

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 net 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 rainy autumn   And walked abroad in a
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