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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373522" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I See the Boys of Summer</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see the boys of summer in their ruin<br>Lay the gold tithings barren,<br>Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;<br>Theire in their heat the winter floods<br>Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,<br>And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,<br>Sour the boiling honey;<br>The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;<br>There in the sun the frigid threads<br>Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;<br>The signal moon is zero in their voids.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see the summer children in their mothers<br>Split up the brawned womb's weathers,<br>Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;<br>There in the deep with quartered shades<br>Of sun and moon they paint their dams<br>As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see that from these boys shall men of nothing<br>Stature by seedy shifting,<br>Or lame the air with leaping from its hearts;<br>There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse<br>Of love and light bursts in their throats.<br>O see the pulse of summer in the ice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But seasons must be challenged or they totter<br>Into a chiming quarter<br>Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;<br>There, in his night, the black-tongued bells<br>The sleepy man of winter pulls,<br>Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We are the dark deniers, let us summon<br>Death from a summer woman,<br>A muscling life from lovers in their cramp,<br>From the fair dead who flush the sea<br>The bright-eyed worm on Davy's lamp,<br>And from the planted womb the man of straw.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,<br>Green of the seaweed's iron,<br>Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,<br>Pick the world's ball of wave and froth<br>To choke the deserts with her tides,<br>And comb the county gardens for a wreath.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,<br>Heigh ho the blood and berry,<br>And nail the merry squires to the trees;<br>Here love's damp muscle dries and dies,<br>Here break a kiss in no love's quarry.<br>O see the poles of promise in the boys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see the boys of summer in their ruin.<br>Man in his maggot's barren.<br>And boys are full and foreign in the pouch.<br>I am the man your father was.<br>We are the sons of flint and pitch.<br>O see the poles are kissing as they cross.</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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I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
Theire in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.

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