Dylan Thomas Poems

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
...

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,
...

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

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,
...

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

The bows glided down, and the coast
Blackened with birds took a last look
At his thrashing hair and whale-blue eye;
The trodden town rang its cobbles for luck.
...

In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face,
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun,
...

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