Archive for the ‘Dylan Thomas’ Category

Dunce Row


Now as I was young and under the rod of my pa:

About the living things on the flight as the crow was black

Brazen in their feathery gown

Taunts in their glance darkling

Over my dog ear’d workbooks about,

Felt I then as sorriest fool ever called to learn

My wings denuded and robbed of all their worth,

To scan lines that trotted like donkey cart to town;

Even scavenging birds held promise under rolling skies

They felt wind in their downy tufts and carried

About as learned lords masters and guardians of horizon

To whichever direction turned found they satisfaction.

But the promising smell of kitchen and what my ma

Would add as extra for my scholarship worked over:

My muscles heaved in unison, Heave ho! Heave ho-

My ears shut, and eyes fell to by a higher command

Over pages as bloodhound, no dillydallying,

No shirking I did it one fell swoop over the row of figures

And set the mystery to nought and I earned my prize:

An extra helping.


The Original is here below:

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 honoured 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
Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
And the sabbath rang slowly
In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
And playing, lovely and watery
And fire green as grass.
And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
Flying with the ricks, and the horses
Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
Out of the whinnying green stable
On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways,
My wishes raced through the house high hay
And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
Before the children green and golden
Follow him out of grace,

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
In the moon that is always rising,
Nor that riding to sleep
I should hear him fly with the high fields
And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea.


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Scotch, make it double, Joe while you are at it-

My thirst is not what we need concern now

I cadge freely your drinks, well what of it?


Rage, rage against the dying of the light-

Nothing good can come out of it I know

Unless with booze wash this red-hot gullet.


I shall hold my life a ransom to thirst:

Dare not go gentle into night somehow

Like whipt cur on the run,- but first things first ,-


Sweet is the day but will live to regret:

Youth who lay hope more than day shall allow

Has nothing left but golden youth misspent


Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight,

Time the bloody hound making a meal of

Hope, they ne’r even had a chance at it.


Rage, rage against the dying of the light:

Life was a holy grail to seek and now

I know my life from youth up was mis-hit

Curse, bless, Oh does it matter in the least?


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