Dylan Thomas

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

Dylan Thomas Poems

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