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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373489" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Winter's Tale</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is a winter's tale<br>That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes<br>And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales,<br>Gliding windless through the hand folded flakes,<br>The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sail,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the stars falling cold,<br>And the smell of hay in the snow, and the far owl<br>Warning among the folds, and the frozen hold<br>Flocked with the sheep white smoke of the farm house cowl<br>In the river wended vales where the tale was told.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once when the world turned old<br>On a star of faith pure as the drifting bread,<br>As the food and flames of the snow, a man unrolled<br>The scrolls of fire that burned in his heart and head,<br>Torn and alone in a farm house in a fold</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of fields. And burning then<br>In his firelit island ringed by the winged snow<br>And the dung hills white as wool and the hen<br>Roosts sleeping chill till the flame of the cock crow<br>Combs through the mantled yards and the morning men</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Stumble out with their spades,<br>The cattle stirring, the mousing cat stepping shy,<br>The puffed birds hopping and hunting, the milkmaids<br>Gentle in their clogs over the fallen sky,<br>And all the woken farm at its white trades,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He knelt, he wept, he prayed,<br>By the spit and the black pot in the log bright light<br>And the cup and the cut bread in the dancing shade,<br>In the muffled house, in the quick of night,<br>At the point of love, forsaken and afraid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He knelt on the cold stones,<br>He wept form the crest of grief, he prayed to the veiled sky<br>May his hunger go howling on bare white bones<br>Past the statues of the stables and the sky roofed sties<br>And the duck pond glass and the blinding byres alone</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Into the home of prayers<br>And fires where he should prowl down the cloud<br>Of his snow blind love and rush in the white lairs.<br>His naked need struck him howling and bowed<br>Though no sound flowed down the hand folded air</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But only the wind strung<br>Hunger of birds in the fields of the bread of water, tossed<br>In high corn and the harvest melting on their tongues.<br>And his nameless need bound him burning and lost<br>When cold as snow he should run the wended vales among</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rivers mouthed in night,<br>And drown in the drifts of his need, and lie curled caught<br>In the always desiring centre of the white<br>Inhuman cradle and the bride bed forever sought<br>By the believer lost and the hurled outcast of light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Deliver him, he cried,<br>By losing him all in love, and cast his need<br>Alone and naked in the engulfing bride,<br>Never to flourish in the fields of the white seed<br>Or flower under the time dying flesh astride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Listen. The minstrels sing<br>In the departed villages. The nightingale,<br>Dust in the buried wood, flies on the grains of her wings<br>And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's tale.<br>The voice of the dust of water from the withered spring</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is telling. The wizened<br>Stream with bells and baying water bounds. The dew rings<br>On the gristed leaves and the long gone glistening<br>Parish of snow. The carved mouths in the rock are wind swept strings.<br>Time sings through the intricately dead snow drop. Listen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was a hand or sound<br>In the long ago land that glided the dark door wide<br>And there outside on the bread of the ground<br>A she bird rose and rayed like a burning bride.<br>A she bird dawned, and her breast with snow and scarlet downed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Look. And the dancers move<br>On the departed, snow bushed green, wanton in moon light<br>As a dust of pigeons. Exulting, the grave hooved<br>Horses, centaur dead, turn and tread the drenched white<br>Paddocks in the farms of birds. The dead oak walks for love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The carved limbs in the rock<br>Leap, as to trumpets. Calligraphy of the old<br>Leaves is dancing. Lines of age on the stones weave in a flock.<br>And the harp shaped voice of the water's dust plucks in a fold<br>Of fields. For love, the long ago she bird rises. Look.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the wild wings were raised<br>Above her folded head, and the soft feathered voice<br>Was flying through the house as though the she bird praised<br>And all the elements of the slow fall rejoiced<br>That a man knelt alone in the cup of the vales,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mantle and calm,<br>By the spit and the black pot in the log bright light.<br>And the sky of birds in the plumed voice charmed<br>Him up and he ran like a wind after the kindling flight<br>Past the blind barns and byres of the windless farm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the poles of the year<br>When black birds died like priests in the cloaked hedge row<br>And over the cloth of counties the far hills rode near,<br>Under the one leaved trees ran a scarecrow of snow<br>And fast through the drifts of the thickets antlered like deer,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rags and prayers down the knee-<br>Deep hillocks and loud on the numbed lakes,<br>All night lost and long wading in the wake of the she-<br>Bird through the times and lands and tribes of the slow flakes.<br>Listen and look where she sails the goose plucked sea,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sky, the bird, the bride,<br>The cloud, the need, the planted stars, the joy beyond<br>The fields of seed and the time dying flesh astride,<br>The heavens, the heaven, the grave, the burning font.<br>In the far ago land the door of his death glided wide,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bird descended.<br>On a bread white hill over the cupped farm<br>And the lakes and floating fields and the river wended<br>Vales where he prayed to come to the last harm<br>And the home of prayers and fires, the tale ended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The dancing perishes<br>On the white, no longer growing green, and, minstrel dead,<br>The singing breaks in the snow shoed villages of wishes<br>That once cut the figures of birds on the deep bread<br>And over the glazed lakes skated the shapes of fishes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Flying. The rite is shorn<br>Of nightingale and centaur dead horse. The springs wither<br>Back. Lines of age sleep on the stones till trumpeting dawn.<br>Exultation lies down. Time buries the spring weather<br>That belled and bounded with the fossil and the dew reborn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For the bird lay bedded<br>In a choir of wings, as though she slept or died,<br>And the wings glided wide and he was hymned and wedded,<br>And through the thighs of the engulfing bride,<br>The woman breasted and the heaven headed</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Bird, he was brought low,<br>Burning in the bride bed of love, in the whirl-<br>Pool at the wanting centre, in the folds<br>Of paradise, in the spun bud of the world.<br>And she rose with him flowering in her melting snow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dylan+Thomas">Dylan Thomas</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373489" data-title="A Winter's Tale de Dylan Thomas" data-description="It is a winter's tale
That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes
And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales,
Gliding windless through the hand folded flakes,
The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sail,

And the stars fa..."></div>
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