In The White Giant’s Thigh (Dylan Thomas Poems)
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hill,And there this night ...
Through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry,Under the conceiving moon, on the high chalk hill,And there this night ...
I Once in the winter Out on a lake In the heart of the north-land, Far ...
When you've marshalled your navies and gloried your fillIn the latest they show of invention and skill,The lion in strength ...
With reverence and submission due,Kind sir those words are sent to you,And with them a good wish too,Long may you ...
'Twas up at the tree near the heid o' the glenI keppit a tinkler chiel,The cauld wind whistled his auld ...
A brazen Pot, by scouring vext, With Beef and Pudding still perplext,Resolv'd t' attempt a nobler Life,Urging the Jugg to ...
The shades of night were falling fast,As through an Eastern village passedA youth who bore, through dust and heat,A stencil-plate, ...
I'll sing to you a fine new song, made by my blessed mate,Of a fine Australian squatter who had a ...
There's a wondrous smell of spices In the kitchen, Most bewitchin'; There are fruits cut into slices That just set ...
When the road it is rough and the sun it is strong,And the miles of the country seem long and ...
" GREENLAND, Greenland, is a bonny, bonny place, Whare there's neither grief nor flowr, Whare there's neither grief nor tier ...
We are your Grand-Parents, the Grown-Ups! Covered with the cold sweats of the moon and the greensward. Our dry wines ...
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis, He, the handsome Yenadizze, Whom the people called the Storm-Fool, Vexed the village with disturbance; ...
In those days the Evil Spirits, All the Manitos of mischief, Fearing Hiawatha's wisdom, And his love for Chibiabos, Jealous ...
Forth upon the Gitche Gumee, On the shining Big-Sea-Water, With his fishing-line of cedar, Of the twisted bark of cedar, ...
Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by ...
Never stoops the soaring vulture On his quarry in the desert, On the sick or wounded bison, But another vulture, ...
I I sought a theme and sought for it in vain, I sought it daily for six weeks or so. ...
L'orage qui s'attarde, le lit d?fait Yves Bonnefoy Here am I, lying lacklustre in an unmade bed A Sunday in ...
I Once in the winter Out on a lake In the heart of the north-land, Far from the Fort And ...
Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room. A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And ...
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