English Poetry. Thomas MacDonagh. In September. Томас Макдона.

Thomas MacDonagh (Томас Макдона)

In September

The winds are in the wood again to-day,
    Not moaning as they moan among bare boughs
In winter dark, nor baying as they bay
    When hunting in full moon, the spring to rouse;

Nor as in summer, soft: the insistent rain
    Hisses the woe of my void life to me;
And the winds jibe me for my anguish vain,
    Sibilant, like waters of the washing sea.

Thomas MacDonagh’s other poems:

1. Isn’t It Pleasant for the Little Birds
2. To James Clarence Mangan
3. A Woman
4. Dublin Tramcars
5. In the Storm

Poems of other poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием):

Edward Dowden (Эдуард (Эдвард) Дауден (Доуден)) In September (“SPRING scarce had greener fields to show than these”)

Amy Levy (Эми Леви) In September (“The sky is silver-grey; the long”)

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