Written for a Personal Epitaph
Dylan Thomas
1914 to 1953
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.
Easy Mode - Auto check enabled
Here is her labour’s end,
All love and sweat
His aim and destination.
Because laid down
Whose loving crime
Who do I blame
Within her womb,
Gone now to rot.
Dead limb and mind,
Who do I blame?
Mother I blame.
Who gave me life and then the grave,
At last by time,
I am man’s reply to every question,
Feeding the worm
Moulded my form
Mother I blame
Here under the earth with girl and thief,
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