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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373506" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Too proud to die; broken and blind he died<br>The darkest way, and did not turn away,<br>A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On that darkest day, Oh, forever may<br>He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed<br>Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost<br>Or still all the numberless days of his death, though<br>Above all he longed for his mother's breast</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground<br>The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed.<br>Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed,<br>In the muted house, one minute before<br>Noon, and night, and light. the rivers of the dead</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw<br>Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea.<br>(An old tormented man three-quarters blind,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am not too proud to cry that He and he<br>Will never never go out of my mind.<br>All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Being innocent, he dreaded that he died<br>Hating his God, but what he was was plain:<br>An old kind man brave in his burning pride.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned.<br>Even as a baby he had never cried;<br>Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide.<br>Here among the liught of the lording sky<br>An old man is with me where I go</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Walking in the meadows of his son's eye<br>On whom a world of ills came down like snow.<br>He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Last sound, the world going out without a breath:<br>Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears,<br>And caught between two nights, blindness and death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O deepest wound of all that he should die<br>On that darkest day. oh, he could hide<br>The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Until I die he will not leave my side.)</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=373506" data-title="Elegy de Dylan Thomas" data-description="Too proud to die; broken and blind he died
The darkest way, and did not turn away,
A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride

On that darkest day, Oh, forever may
He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed
Hill, under the grass, in love, and th..."></div>
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