High on a hill

Dylan Thomas

1914 to 1953

Poem Image
Track 1

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Blowing with the blood’s ebb,
Until the day’s broken—
And the carnal stem that stood
Is fallen down
Out of the way of the eyes of men,
High on a hill,
Straddle her wrinkled knees
Christ, let me write from the heart,
Breathe till the snake is home,
Out of the way,
To the ground.
War on the heart—
Puff till the adder is,
Till the bird has burst his shell,
Straddle and soak,
Inch on the old thigh

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