Dylan Thomas

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

Dylan Thomas Poems

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