who do not normally read poetry were drawn to Thomas's by the magic of his own reading. After his premature death a reaction set in: some critics declared that he had been overrated as a poet because of his sensational life. The 'Movement' poets, such as Philip Larkin, repudiated his rhetorical extravagance. Even so, Thomas is still considered an original poet of great power and beauty.
The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower
Th e force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
5 My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
Th e force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
IO Ho w at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool1
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
15 Ho w of my clay is made the hangman's lime.2
Th e lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
1. The hand of the angel who troubles the water 2. Quicklime was sometimes poured into the of the pool Bethesda, thus rendering it curative, in graves of public hangmen's victims to accelerate John 5.1-4. decomposition.
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244 6 / DYLAN THOMAS
2 0An d I am dum b to tell a weather's wind Ho w time has ticked a heaven round the stars. An d I am dum b to tell the lover's tomb Ho w at my sheet goes the same crooked worm. 1933 The Hunchback in the Park 5Th e hunchback in the park A solitary mister Propped between trees and water Fro m the opening of the garden lock That lets the trees and water enter Until the Sunday sombre bell at dark' ioEating bread from a newspaper Drinking water from the chained cup That the children filled with gravel In the fountain basin where I sailed my ship Slept at night in a dog kennel But nobody chained him up. 15Like the park birds he came early Like the water he sat down An d Mister they called He y mister Th e truant boys from the town Running when he had heard them clearly On out of sound 2 0Past lake and rockery0 Laughing when he shook his paper Hunchbacked in mockery Through the loud zoo of the willow groves Dodging the park keeper Wit h his stick that picked up leaves. rock garden 253 0 An d the old dog sleeper Alone between nurses and swans While the boys among willows Made the tigers jum p out of their eyes To roar on the rockery stones An d the groves were blue with sailors Made all day until bell time A woma n figure without fault Straight as a young elm Straight and tall from his crooked bones 1. The bell indicates the park's closing for the night.
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POEM IN OCTOBER / 2447
3 5 That she might stand in the night After the locks and chains 40All night in the unmade park After the railings and shrubberies Th e birds the grass the trees the lake An d the wild boys innocent as strawberries Ha d followed the hunchback To his kennel in the dark. 1941 1946 Poem in October 5ioIt was my thirtieth year to heaven Wok e to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood An d the mussel pooled and the heron Priested shore Th e morning beckon Wit h water praying and call of seagull and rook? An d the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall Myself to set foot That second In the still sleeping town and set forth. crow 152 0My birthday began with the water- Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name Above the farms and the white horses An d I rose In rainy autumn An d walked abroad in a shower of all my days. High tide and the heron dived when I took the road Over the border An d the gates Of the town closed as the town awoke. 2 530A springful of larks in a rolling Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling Blackbirds and the sun of October Summer y On the hill's shoulder, Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly Com e in the morning where I wandered and listened To the rain wringing Win d blow cold In the wood faraway under me. An dPale rain over the dwindling harbour over the sea wet church the size of a snail Wit h its horns through mist and the castle Brown as owls
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2448 / DYLAN THOMAS
35 But all the gardens Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel My birthday 40 Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country And down the other air and the blue altered sky Streamed again a wonder of summer With apples
45 Pears and red currants And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables Of sun light 50 And the legends of the green chapels
