Find meat on bones

Dylan Thomas

1914 to 1953

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Nor can I smother the sweet waking.’
The word of the blood, the wily skin,
‘War on the spider and the wren!
And the parliament of sky,
That out of a bower of red swine
Dictatorship of sun.
The kingcrafts of the wicked sea,
War on the destiny of man!
And put beside her a ram rose.
The sea speaks in a kingly voice,
And the sky lays down her laws,
‘The thirst is quenched, the hunger gone,
Then hang a ram rose over the rags.
Doom on the sun!’
Before the ladies’ breasts are hags
Disturb no winding-sheets, my son,
And the limbs are torn.
And the man no rope can hang
And drink in the two milked crags,
Black night still ministers the moon,
Autocracy of night and day,
The merriest marrow and the dregs
I laid her down and told her sin,
My breasts are thin.
Light and dark are no enemies
My face is haggard in the glass,
‘The maggot that no man can kill
Before death takes you, O take back this.
‘Find meat on bones that soon have none,
But one companion.
But when the ladies are cold as stone
Season and sunshine, grace and girl,
Rebel against my father’s dream
And my heart is cracked across;
Howls the foul fiend to heel.
A merry girl took me for man,
And the maggot no man can slay.’
‘Rebel against the binding moon
Rebel against the flesh and bone,
My lips are withered with a kiss,
I cannot murder, like a fool,

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