poet Dylan Thomas

Dylan Thomas

#34 on top 500 poets

Out Of The Sighs

Out of the sighs a little comes,
But not of grief, for I have knocked down that
Before the agony; the spirit grows,
Forgets, and cries;
A little comes, is tasted and found good;
All could not disappoint;
There must, be praised, some certainty,
If not of loving well, then not,
And that is true after perpetual defeat.

After such fighting as the weakest know,
There's more than dying;
Lose the great pains or stuff the wound,
He'll ache too long
Through no regret of leaving woman waiting
For her soldier stained with spilt words
That spill such acrid blood.

Were that enough, enough to ease the pain,
Feeling regret when this is wasted
That made me happy in the sun,
How much was happy while it lasted,
Were vagueness enough and the sweet lies plenty,
The hollow words could bear all suffering
And cure me of ills.

Were that enough, bone, blood, and sinew,
The twisted brain, the fair-formed loin,
Groping for matter under the dog's plate,
Man should be cured of distemper.
For all there is to give I offer:
Crumbs, barn, and halter.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Add this poem to MyPoemList

Rating Card

3,0 out of 5
23 total ratings
rate this poem

Comments about Out Of The Sighs by Dylan Thomas

  • Brian JaniBrian Jani (4/26/2014 2:17:00 AM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out

    Report Reply
    smeop(4/10/2019 9:00:00 AM)

    I think not.

    0 person liked.
    2 person did not like.



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?