Dylan Thomas

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

Dylan Thomas Poems

1. A Child's Christmas In Wales 1/3/2003
2. A Grief Ago 3/30/2010
3. A Letter To My Aunt 1/3/2003
4. A Process In The Weather Of The Heart 1/3/2003
5. A Refusal To Mourn The Death, By Fire, Of A Child In London 1/3/2003
6. A Saint About To Fall 3/30/2010
7. A Winter's Tale 3/30/2010
8. After The Funeral (In Memory Of Ann Jones) 1/3/2003
9. All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever 1/13/2003
10. All That I Owe The Fellows Of The Grave 1/3/2003
11. Altarwise By Owl-Light 1/3/2003
12. Among Those Killed In The Dawn Raid Was A Man Aged A Hundred 1/3/2003
13. And Death Shall Have No Dominion 1/3/2003
14. Author's Prologue 1/13/2003
15. Ballad Of The Long-Legged Bait 1/3/2003
16. Because The Pleasure-Bird Whistles 3/30/2010
17. Before I Knocked 1/3/2003
18. Being But Men 4/27/2011
19. Ceremony After A Fire Raid 3/30/2010
20. Clown In The Moon 1/3/2003
21. Deaths And Entrances 1/3/2003
22. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night 1/3/2003
23. Do You Not Father Me 3/30/2010
24. Ears In The Turrets Hear 1/3/2003
25. Elegy 1/3/2003
26. Especially When The October Wind 1/3/2003
27. Fern Hill 1/3/2003
28. Find Meat On Bones 3/30/2010
29. Foster The Light 1/3/2003
30. From Love's First Fever To Her Plague 1/3/2003
31. Grief Thief Of Time 3/30/2010
32. Here In This Spring 3/30/2010
33. Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoo's Month 1/3/2003
34. Holy Spring 1/3/2003
35. How Shall My Animal 1/3/2003
36. How Soon The Servant Sun 3/30/2010
37. I Dreamed My Genesis 1/3/2003
38. I Fellowed Sleep 1/3/2003
39. I Have Longed To Move Away 1/3/2003
40. I Make This In A Warring Absence 3/30/2010
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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