Written for a Personal Epitaph

Dylan Thomas

1914 to 1953

Poem Image
Track 1

Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.

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Here is her labour’s end,
All love and sweat
Who do I blame?
Mother I blame.
Moulded my form
Within her womb,
Mother I blame
Here under the earth with girl and thief,
Who do I blame
Who gave me life and then the grave,
I am man’s reply to every question,
Dead limb and mind,
His aim and destination.
Feeding the worm
Because laid down
Gone now to rot.
Whose loving crime
At last by time,

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