Dylan Thomas

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

Dylan Thomas Poems

1. It Is The Sinners' Dust-Tongued Bell 3/30/2010
2. To-Day, This Insect 1/3/2003
3. Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoo's Month 1/3/2003
4. Then Was My Neophyte 1/3/2003
5. How Soon The Servant Sun 3/30/2010
6. Unluckily For A Death 3/30/2010
7. Why East Wind Chills 3/30/2010
8. When, Like A Running Grave 1/3/2003
9. I Make This In A Warring Absence 3/30/2010
10. Out Of The Sighs 3/30/2010
11. The Seed-At-Zero 1/3/2003
12. January 1939 1/3/2003
13. The Tombstone Told When She Died 3/30/2010
14. In The White Giant's Thigh 3/30/2010
15. Prologue 1/3/2003
16. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot 3/30/2010
17. We Lying By Seasand 3/30/2010
18. I Fellowed Sleep 1/3/2003
19. When Once The Twilight Locks No Longer 1/3/2003
20. Because The Pleasure-Bird Whistles 3/30/2010
21. I, In My Intricate Image 1/3/2003
22. On The Marriage Of A Virgin 3/30/2010
23. The Conversation Of Prayer 1/3/2003
24. Where Once The Waters Of Your Face 1/3/2003
25. A Saint About To Fall 3/30/2010
26. Into Her Lying Down Head 3/30/2010
27. On No Work Of Words 1/3/2003
28. From Love's First Fever To Her Plague 1/3/2003
29. Our Eunuch Dreams 1/3/2003
30. How Shall My Animal 1/3/2003
31. Once Below A Time 3/30/2010
32. All All And All The Dry Worlds Lever 1/13/2003
33. Find Meat On Bones 3/30/2010
34. When I Woke 3/30/2010
35. My World Is Pyramid 1/3/2003
36. Foster The Light 1/3/2003
37. Notes On The Art Of Poetry 3/30/2010
38. Ceremony After A Fire Raid 3/30/2010
39. Should Lanterns Shine 1/3/2003
40. Vision And Prayer 1/13/2003
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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