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