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Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Birdcage walk, John Thomas Merton


One royal afternoon 
When I was young and easily surprised   
By uncles coming from the park 
At the command of nurses and of guards, 

I wondered, over trees and ponds,   
At the sorry, rude walls 
And the white windows of the apartments. 

“These,” said my uncle, “are the tallest houses.”   



Yes, in the spring of my joy 
When I was visibly affected by a gaitered bishop,   
Large and unsteady in the flagged yard, 
Guards, dogs and blackbirds fled on every hand. 

“He is an old one,” said uncle,   
“The gaiters are real.” 



Rippled, fistfed windows of your 
Dun high houses! Then 
Come cages made of pretty willows 
Where they put the palace girls! 
Green ducks wade slowly from the marble water.   
One swan reproves a saucy daughter. 

I consider my own true pond, 
Look for the beginning and the end. 
I lead the bishop down lanes and islands. 



Yes, in the windows of my first existence   
Before my yawns became seasons, 
When nurses and uncles were sure,   
Chinese fowl fought the frosty water   
Startled by this old pontifex. 

“No bridge” (He smiled   
Between the budding branches), 
“No crossing to the cage   
Of the paradise bird!” 

Astounded by the sermons in the leaves 
I cried, “No! No! The stars have higher houses!” 

Kicking the robins and ganders   
From the floor of his insular world 
The magic bishop leaned his blessing on the children. 



That was the bold day when 
Moved by the unexpected summons   
I opened all the palace aviaries   
As by a king’s representative 
I was appointed fowler.

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