Dylan Thomas

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

Dylan Thomas Poems

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