Dylan Thomas

(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

Dylan Thomas Poems

1. In The White Giant's Thigh 3/30/2010
2. Shall Gods Be Said To Thump The Clouds 3/30/2010
3. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot 3/30/2010
4. This Bread I Break 3/30/2010
5. It Is The Sinners' Dust-Tongued Bell 3/30/2010
6. Unluckily For A Death 3/30/2010
7. The Tombstone Told When She Died 3/30/2010
8. Why East Wind Chills 3/30/2010
9. We Lying By Seasand 3/30/2010
10. Once Below A Time 3/30/2010
11. How Soon The Servant Sun 3/30/2010
12. Find Meat On Bones 3/30/2010
13. Out Of The Sighs 3/30/2010
14. I Make This In A Warring Absence 3/30/2010
15. To Others Than You 3/30/2010
16. On The Marriage Of A Virgin 3/30/2010
17. When I Woke 3/30/2010
18. Limerick 3/30/2010
19. Then Was My Neophyte 1/3/2003
20. Do You Not Father Me 3/30/2010
21. Grief Thief Of Time 3/30/2010
22. In Country Sleep 3/30/2010
23. Prologue 1/3/2003
24. Into Her Lying Down Head 3/30/2010
25. Should Lanterns Shine 1/3/2003
26. Over Sir John's Hill 3/30/2010
27. Notes On The Art Of Poetry 3/30/2010
28. To-Day, This Insect 1/3/2003
29. The Conversation Of Prayer 1/3/2003
30. Here In This Spring 3/30/2010
31. Vision And Prayer 1/13/2003
32. When, Like A Running Grave 1/3/2003
33. When Once The Twilight Locks No Longer 1/3/2003
34. Our Eunuch Dreams 1/3/2003
35. On No Work Of Words 1/3/2003
36. Because The Pleasure-Bird Whistles 3/30/2010
37. My World Is Pyramid 1/3/2003
38. January 1939 1/3/2003
39. Ceremony After A Fire Raid 3/30/2010
40. Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoo's Month 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Dylan Thomas

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave ...

Read the full of Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Clown In The Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

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