Lift up your face

Dylan Thomas

1914 to 1953

Poem Image
Track 1

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Let comfort come slowly, lift
Suspended from the devil’s precipice,
Lift up your head, let
Is with the corpse of peace,
Of men and creatures horribly
Comfort come through the devil’s clouds,
The only visitor,
Therefore lift up, see, stroke the light.
In the unsleeping mummery
That chases the ghosts of the trees
When the skeleton of war
Lift up the blinds over the blind eyes.
Breaking, stare at the sky
Consoling for night by day
If only with sunlight.
(Notes not in sympathy, discord, unease),
Content shall come after a twisted night
Lift up your face, light
Staring at stone walls.
Up your hand to stroke the light,
The nightmare’s mist
Must come content.
Making fresh what was stale
And the ghosts of the brain,
Its honeyed cheek, soft-talking mouth,
Out of unsleeping cogitations,

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