Dylan Thomas
The Seed-At-Zero
The seed-at-zero shall not storm That town of ghosts, the trodden womb, With her rampart to his tapping, No god-in-hero tumble down Like a tower on the town Dumbly and divinely stumbling Over the
A Child's Christmas In Wales
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound Except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep,
Dylan Thomas – Holy Spring
O Out of a bed of love When that immortal hospital made one more moove to soothe The curless counted body, And ruin and his causes Over the barbed and shooting sea assumed an
Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred
When the morning was waking over the war He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died, The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide, He dropped where he loved
O Make Me A Mask
O make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies Of the sharp, enamelled eyes and the spectacled claws Rape and rebellion in the nurseries of my face, Gag of dumbstruck
Poem In October
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
My Hero Bares His Nerves
My hero bares his nerves along my wrist That rules from wrist to shoulder, Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost, Leans on my mortal ruler, The proud spine spurning turn and twist.
All That I Owe The Fellows Of The Grave
All that I owe the fellows of the grave And all the dead bequeathed from pale estates Lies in the fortuned bone, the flask of blood, Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots. O
Where Once The Waters Of Your Face
Where once the waters of your face Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows, The dead turns up its eye; Where once the mermen through your ice Pushed up their hair, the dry
I See The Boys Of Summer
I I see the boys of summer in their ruin Lay the gold tithings barren, Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils; There in their heat the winter floods Of frozen loves they
Ears In The Turrets Hear
Ears in the turrets hear Hands grumble on the door, Eyes in the gables see The fingers at the locks. Shall I unbolt or stay Alone till the day I die Unseen by stranger-eyes
I Have Longed To Move Away
I have longed to move away From the hissing of the spent lie And the old terrors’ continual cry Growing more terrible as the day Goes over the hill into the deep sea; I
Our Eunuch Dreams
I Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in the light, Of light and love the tempers of the heart, Whack their boys’ limbs, And, winding-footed in their shawl and sheet, Groom the dark brides, the
January 1939
Because the pleasure-bird whistles after the hot wires, Shall the blind horse sing sweeter? Convenient bird and beast lie lodged to suffer The supper and knives of a mood. In the sniffed and poured
Was There A Time
Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles In children’s circuses could stay their troubles? There was a time they could cry over books, But time has set its maggot on their track.