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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=373554" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Poem on his Birthday</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the mustardseed sun,<br>By full tilt river and switchback sea<br>Where the cormorants scud,<br>In his house on stilts high among beaks<br>And palavers of birds<br>This sandgrain day in the bent bay's grave<br>He celebrates and spurns<br>His driftwood thirty-fifth wind turned age;<br>Herons spire and spear.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Under and round him go<br>Flounders, gulls, on their cold, dying trails,<br>Doing what they are told,<br>Curlews aloud in the congered waves<br>Work at their ways to death,<br>And the rhymer in the long tongued room,<br>Who tolls his birthday bell,<br>Toesl towards the ambush of his wounds;<br>Herons, stepple stemmed, bless.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the thistledown fall,<br>He sings towards anguish; finches fly<br>In the claw tracks of hawks<br>On a seizing sky; small fishes glide<br>Through wynds and shells of drowned<br>Ship towns to pastures of otters. He<br>In his slant, racking house<br>And the hewn coils of his trade perceives<br>Herons walk in their shroud,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The livelong river's robe<br>Of minnows wreathing around their prayer;<br>And far at sea he knows,<br>Who slaves to his crouched, eternal end<br>Under a serpent cloud,<br>Dolphins dyive in their turnturtle dust,<br>The rippled seals streak down<br>To kill and their own tide daubing blood<br>Slides good in the sleek mouth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In a cavernous, swung<br>Wave's silence, wept white angelus knells.<br>Thirty-five bells sing struck<br>On skull and scar where his lovews lie wrecked,<br>Steered by the falling stars.<br>And to-morrow weeps in a blind cage<br>Terror will rage apart<br>Before chains break to a hammer flame<br>And love unbolts the dark</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And freely he goes lost<br>In the unknown, famous light of great<br>And fabulous, dear God.<br>Dark is a way and light is a place,<br>Heaven that never was<br>Nor will be ever is alwas true,<br>And, in that brambled void,<br>Plenty as blackberries in the woods<br>The dead grow for His joy.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There he might wander bare<br>With the spirits of the horseshoe bay<br>Or the stars' seashore dead,<br>Marrow of eagles, the roots of whales<br>And wishbones of wild geese,<br>With blessed, unborn God and His Ghost,<br>And every soul His priest,<br>Gulled and chanter in youg Heaven's fold<br>Be at cloud quaking peace,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But dark is a long way.<br>He, on the earth of the night, alone<br>With all the living, prays,<br>Who knows the rocketing wind will blow<br>The bones out of the hills,<br>And the scythed boulders bleed, and the last<br>Rage shattered waters kick<br>Masts and fishes to the still quick stars,<br>Faithlessly unto Him</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who is the light of old<br>And air shaped Heaven where souls grow wild<br>As horses in the foam:<br>Oh, let me midlife mourn by the shrined <br>And druid herons' vows<br>The voyage to ruin I must run,<br>Dawn ships clouted aground,<br>Yet, though I cry with tumbledown tongue,<br>Count my blessings aloud:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Four elements and five<br>Senses, and man a spirit in love<br>Thangling through this spun slime<br>To his nimbus bell cool kingdom come<br>And the lost, moonshine domes,<br>And the sea that hides his secret selves<br>Deep in its black, base bones,<br>Lulling of spheres in the seashell flesh,<br>And this last blessing most,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That the closer I move<br>To death, one man through his sundered hulks,<br>The louder the sun blooms<br>And the tusked, ramshackling sea exults;<br>And every wave of the way<br>And gale I tackle, the whole world then,<br>With more triumphant faith<br>That ever was since the world was said,<br>Spins its morning of praise,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I hear the bouncing hills<br>Grow larked and greener at berry brown<br>Fall and the dew larks sing<br>Taller this thuderclap spring, and how<br>More spanned with angles ride<br>The mansouled fiery islands! Oh,<br>Holier then their eyes,<br>And my shining men no more alone<br>As I sail out to die</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=373554" data-title="Poem on his Birthday de Dylan Thomas" data-description="In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
And palavers of birds
This sandgrain day in the bent bay's grave
He celebrates and spurns
His driftwood thirty-fifth w..."></div>
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