Dylan Thomas

(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953 / Swansea / Wales)

Dylan Thomas Poems

1. Shall Gods Be Said To Thump The Clouds 3/30/2010
2. In The White Giant's Thigh 3/30/2010
3. If My Head Hurt A Hair's Foot 3/30/2010
4. Once Below A Time 3/30/2010
5. Unluckily For A Death 3/30/2010
6. Find Meat On Bones 3/30/2010
7. On The Marriage Of A Virgin 3/30/2010
8. Out Of The Sighs 3/30/2010
9. Why East Wind Chills 3/30/2010
10. It Is The Sinners' Dust-Tongued Bell 3/30/2010
11. I Make This In A Warring Absence 3/30/2010
12. The Tombstone Told When She Died 3/30/2010
13. How Soon The Servant Sun 3/30/2010
14. We Lying By Seasand 3/30/2010
15. To Others Than You 3/30/2010
16. When I Woke 3/30/2010
17. Over Sir John's Hill 3/30/2010
18. Prologue 1/3/2003
19. Limerick 3/30/2010
20. Grief Thief Of Time 3/30/2010
21. This Bread I Break 3/30/2010
22. In Country Sleep 3/30/2010
23. Into Her Lying Down Head 3/30/2010
24. Here In This Spring 3/30/2010
25. When, Like A Running Grave 1/3/2003
26. Should Lanterns Shine 1/3/2003
27. Notes On The Art Of Poetry 3/30/2010
28. Do You Not Father Me 3/30/2010
29. Then Was My Neophyte 1/3/2003
30. Ceremony After A Fire Raid 3/30/2010
31. Our Eunuch Dreams 1/3/2003
32. Vision And Prayer 1/13/2003
33. Hold Hard, These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoo's Month 1/3/2003
34. On No Work Of Words 1/3/2003
35. From Love's First Fever To Her Plague 1/3/2003
36. Not From This Anger 1/3/2003
37. The Conversation Of Prayer 1/3/2003
38. I Fellowed Sleep 1/3/2003
39. To-Day, This Insect 1/3/2003
40. January 1939 1/3/2003
Best Poem of Dylan Thomas

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave ...

Read the full of Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Clown In The Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

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