<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373517" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>How Soon The Servant Sun</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">How soon the servant sun,<br>(Sir morrow mark),<br>Can time unriddle, and the cupboard stone,<br>(Fog has a bone<br>He'll trumpet into meat),<br>Unshelve that all my gristles have a gown<br>And the naked egg stand straight,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sir morrow at his sponge,<br>(The wound records),<br>The nurse of giants by the cut sea basin,<br>(Fog by his spring<br>Soaks up the sewing tides),<br>Tells you and you, my masters, as his strange<br>Man morrow blows through food.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All nerves to serve the sun,<br>The rite of light,<br>A claw I question from the mouse's bone,<br>The long-tailed stone<br>Trap I with coil and sheet,<br>Let the soil squeal I am the biting man<br>And the velvet dead inch out.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How soon my level, lord,<br>(Sir morrow stamps<br>Two heels of water on the floor of seed),<br>Shall raise a lamp<br>Or spirit up a cloud,<br>Erect a walking centre in the shroud,<br>Invisible on the stump</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A leg as long as trees,<br>This inward sir,<br>Mister and master, darkness for his eyes,<br>The womb-eyed, cries,<br>And all sweet hell, deaf as an hour's ear,<br>Blasts back the trumpet voice.</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> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=373517" data-title="How Soon The Servant Sun de Dylan Thomas" data-description="How soon the servant sun, (Sir morrow mark), Can time unriddle, and the cupboard stone, (Fog has a bone He'll trumpet into meat), Unshelve that all my gristles have a gown And the naked egg stand straight, Sir morrow at his sponge, (The wound rec..."></div> </div> </div>

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