Dylan Thomas Poems

The hunchback in the park
A solitary mister
Propped between trees and water
From the opening of the garden lock
...

Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see
The fingers at the locks.
...

This day winding down now
At God speeded summer's end
In the torrent salmon sun,
In my seashaken house
...

Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glowworms in their heads,
...

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
...

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.
...

It is a winter's tale
That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes
And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales,
...

The sky is torn across
This ragged anniversary of two
Who moved for three years in tune
Down the long walks of their vows.
...

Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods
In a land strapped by hunger
...

A grief ago,
She who was who I hold, the fats and the flower,
Or, water-lammed, from the scythe-sided thorn,
...