The collected poems of Dylan Thomas, 1934-1952.
1971
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Details
Title
The collected poems of Dylan Thomas, 1934-1952.
Uniform Title
Poems
ISBN
0811202054
9780811202053
9780811202053
Imprint
New York : New Directions, 1971.
Language
English
Description
xviii, 203 pages : portrait ; 20 cm.
System Control No.
(OCoLC)782668
Summary
Collected Poems Of Dylan Thomas 1934-1952 (New Directions Book)This attractive gift edition of COLLECTED POEMS 1934-53 includes work from DylanThomas's five published volumes of poetry:18 POEMS,TWENTY FIVE POEMS,THE MAP OF LOVE,DEATH AND ENTRANCES and IN COUNTRY SLEEP.Dylan Thomas's poems gambol and frisk across the tongue and imagination like those of few poets I have ever read. His choicely crafted (and often synaesthetic) phrases, his musicality, and his laughingly lilting language are nicely captured by the first two stanzas of Fern Hill--read it aloud for full effect: Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honored among wagons I was prince of the apple towns, And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley.
Note
Reprint. Originally published: New York : J. Laughlin, 1957.
Formatted Contents Note
I see the boys of summer
When once the twilight locks no longer
A process in the weather of the heart
Before I knocked
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
My hero bares his nerves
Where once the waters of your face
If I were tickled by the rub of love
Our eunuch dreams
Especially when the October wind
When, like a running grave
From love's first fever to her plague
In the beginning
Light breaks where no sun shines
I fellowed sleep
I dreamed my genesis
My world is pyramid
All all and all the dry worlds lever
I, in my intricate image
This bread I break
Incarnate devil
To-day, this insect
The seed-at-zero
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
Here in this spring
Do you not father me
Out of the sighs
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month
Was there a time
Now
Why east wind chills
A grief ago
How soon the servant sun
Ears in the turrets hear
Foster the light
The hand that signed the paper
Should lanterns shine
I have longed to move away
Find meat on bones
Grief thief of time
And death shall have no dominion
Then was my neophyte
Altarwise by owl-light
Because the pleasure-bird whistles
I make this in a warring absence
When all my fie and country senses see
We lying by seasand
It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell
O make me a mask
The spire cranes
Once it was the colour of saying
Not from this anger
How shall my animal
The tombstone told when she died
On no work of words
A saint about to fall
'If my head hurt a hair's foot'
Twenty-four years
The conversation of prayer
A refusal to mourn the death, by fire, of a child in London
Poem in October
This side of the truth
To others than you
Love in the asylum
Unluckily for a death
The hunchback in the park
Into her lying down head
Do not go gentle into that good night
Deaths and entrances
A winter's tale.
On a wedding anniversary
There was a saviour
On the marriage of a virgin
In my craft or sullen art
Ceremony after a fire raid
Once below a time
When I woke
Dawn raid
Lie still, sleep becalmed
Vision and prayer
Ballad of the long-legged bait
Holy spring
Fern hill
In country sleep
Over Sir John's hill
Poem on his birthday
Lament
In the white giant's thigh
Elegy
Vernon Watkins note.
When once the twilight locks no longer
A process in the weather of the heart
Before I knocked
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
My hero bares his nerves
Where once the waters of your face
If I were tickled by the rub of love
Our eunuch dreams
Especially when the October wind
When, like a running grave
From love's first fever to her plague
In the beginning
Light breaks where no sun shines
I fellowed sleep
I dreamed my genesis
My world is pyramid
All all and all the dry worlds lever
I, in my intricate image
This bread I break
Incarnate devil
To-day, this insect
The seed-at-zero
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
Here in this spring
Do you not father me
Out of the sighs
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month
Was there a time
Now
Why east wind chills
A grief ago
How soon the servant sun
Ears in the turrets hear
Foster the light
The hand that signed the paper
Should lanterns shine
I have longed to move away
Find meat on bones
Grief thief of time
And death shall have no dominion
Then was my neophyte
Altarwise by owl-light
Because the pleasure-bird whistles
I make this in a warring absence
When all my fie and country senses see
We lying by seasand
It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell
O make me a mask
The spire cranes
Once it was the colour of saying
Not from this anger
How shall my animal
The tombstone told when she died
On no work of words
A saint about to fall
'If my head hurt a hair's foot'
Twenty-four years
The conversation of prayer
A refusal to mourn the death, by fire, of a child in London
Poem in October
This side of the truth
To others than you
Love in the asylum
Unluckily for a death
The hunchback in the park
Into her lying down head
Do not go gentle into that good night
Deaths and entrances
A winter's tale.
On a wedding anniversary
There was a saviour
On the marriage of a virgin
In my craft or sullen art
Ceremony after a fire raid
Once below a time
When I woke
Dawn raid
Lie still, sleep becalmed
Vision and prayer
Ballad of the long-legged bait
Holy spring
Fern hill
In country sleep
Over Sir John's hill
Poem on his birthday
Lament
In the white giant's thigh
Elegy
Vernon Watkins note.
Series
New Directions paperbook ; 316.
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