Being But Men (Dylan Thomas Poems)
Being but men, we walked into the treesAfraid, letting our syllables be softFor fear of waking the rooks,For fear of ...
Being but men, we walked into the treesAfraid, letting our syllables be softFor fear of waking the rooks,For fear of ...
The hunchback in the park A solitary mister Propped between trees and water From the opening of the garden lock ...
Do you not father me, nor the erected armFor my tall tower's sake cast in her stone?Do you not mother ...
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month,Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill,As the green blooms ride ...
Why east wind chills and south wind coolsShall not be known till windwell driesAnd west's no longer drownedIn winds that ...
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month, Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill, As the green ...
Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles In children's circuses could stay their troubles? There was a time ...
Where once the waters of your face Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows, The dead turns up its ...
There was a saviour Rarer than radium, Commoner than water, crueller than truth; Children kept from the sun Assembled at ...
Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass ...
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound ...
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