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Conceive these images in air,
Wrap them in flame, they’re mine;
Set against granite,
Let the two dull stones be grey,
Or, formed of sand,
Trickle away through thought,
In water or in metal,
Flowing and melting under lime.
Cut them in rock,
So, not to be defaced,
They harden and take shape again
As signs I’ve not brought down
To any lighter state
By love-tip or my hand’s red heat.
Dylan Thomas’s "Conceive these images in air" is a compact yet densely layered poem that engages with themes of artistic creation, permanence versus transience, and the struggle to solidify meaning in an unstable world. Written in Thomas’s characteristically rich and tactile language, the poem invites readers to contemplate the nature of poetic imagery—its resilience and fragility, its resistance to erosion, and its defiance against the forces that seek to diminish it. This analysis will explore the poem’s historical and cultural context, its use of literary devices, its central themes, and its emotional impact, while also considering how it fits within Thomas’s broader body of work.
Dylan Thomas (1914–1953) was a Welsh poet whose work emerged during a period of significant upheaval—both personally and globally. His poetry often grapples with existential questions, the tension between life and death, and the role of the artist in shaping perception. Written in the mid-20th century, "Conceive these images in air" reflects a modernist sensibility, though Thomas resisted strict categorization within any single literary movement. Unlike the high modernists (Eliot, Pound), who often employed fragmentation and cultural allusion, Thomas’s work leans more toward Romantic intensity, with a focus on sensory experience and organic imagery.
The poem can be read as a response to the anxieties of artistic legacy—a concern particularly relevant in the aftermath of World War II, when the fragility of human creation was starkly evident. The imagery of stone, sand, and metal suggests both endurance and erosion, mirroring the postwar consciousness where permanence was both desired and doubted. Additionally, Thomas’s Welsh heritage, with its traditions of bardic poetry and oral storytelling, may inform the poem’s insistence on the physicality of language—words as objects that can be carved, melted, or dissolved.
Thomas’s poem is built upon a series of striking contrasts—between solidity and fluidity, between permanence and decay, between the artist’s will and the indifferent forces of nature. These oppositions are rendered through a carefully constructed sequence of imperatives ("Conceive," "Wrap," "Set," "Let," "Cut"), which position the reader as both witness and participant in the act of creation.
The poem is saturated with elemental substances—air, flame, granite, sand, water, metal, lime, rock—each representing different states of matter and different modes of existence. The opening line, "Conceive these images in air," suggests both the ethereal nature of thought and the impossibility of grasping it fully. Air is insubstantial, yet it is the medium through which poetry (and breath, a recurring motif in Thomas’s work) travels. The command to "Wrap them in flame" introduces destruction and transformation; fire both consumes and purifies, suggesting that the poet’s images must endure a trial by fire to become truly his.
The contrast between "granite" and "sand" further develops this tension. Granite is enduring, a symbol of monumental art, while sand is granular, shifting, subject to the whims of wind and water. The line "Let the two dull stones be grey" implies a resignation to the mundane, yet the subsequent image of sand "trickl[ing] away through thought" suggests that even the most solid-seeming things are subject to erosion, both physical and mental.
Thomas frequently employs paradox to convey the instability of meaning. The images he describes are at once fluid ("Flowing and melting under lime") and unyielding ("Cut them in rock, / So, not to be defaced"). Lime, a substance that can both solidify (as in mortar) and corrode (as in quicklime), embodies this duality. The poet’s creations are in a constant state of flux, yet he demands that they "harden and take shape again," resisting degradation.
The final lines—"As signs I’ve not brought down / To any lighter state / By love-tip or my hand’s red heat"—suggest a refusal to diminish his art, whether through sentimentalization ("love-tip") or the destructive force of his own creative passion ("my hand’s red heat"). The poet’s work must remain unsoftened, unyielding, even if it means enduring hardship.
At its core, the poem is a meditation on the artist’s desire to create something lasting in a world where all things eventually dissolve. The imperative tone suggests a defiance against entropy—an insistence that poetry can outlast its medium. Thomas’s images are not merely written; they are carved, cast, and forged, as if the poet is a sculptor or blacksmith rather than a mere wordsmith.
This theme aligns with Thomas’s broader preoccupation with mortality, seen in poems like "And death shall have no dominion" and "Do not go gentle into that good night." Here, however, the struggle is not against biological death but against the erosion of meaning. The poet’s "signs" must not be "brought down / To any lighter state"—they must retain their weight, their seriousness, their resistance to simplification.
The poem acknowledges that artistic creation is inseparable from destruction. To "Wrap [images] in flame" is to risk their annihilation, yet it is also the process by which they are refined. Similarly, "Cut them in rock" implies both violence and permanence. This duality reflects Thomas’s own poetic method, which often involved laborious revision—a kind of linguistic chiseling—to achieve his densely layered effects.
The rejection of the "love-tip" is particularly significant. Thomas’s work, though deeply emotional, often avoids overt sentimentality in favor of a more rugged, visceral expression of feeling. The "hand’s red heat" suggests the physical toll of creation, the burns and scars of artistic labor, rather than the easy warmth of affection. The poet’s images must remain unsoftened, retaining their harshness and integrity.
The poem’s emotional power lies in its tension between defiance and vulnerability. The speaker commands the reader to envision his images enduring, yet the very need to insist upon their permanence suggests an underlying fear of their dissolution. There is a quiet desperation in the lines "They harden and take shape again," as if the poet is willing his words to survive despite the forces arrayed against them.
For the reader, this creates a sense of both awe and melancholy. Awe, because the poem celebrates the artist’s ability to forge meaning from intangible thought; melancholy, because it acknowledges that even the hardest stone may wear away in time. The emotional resonance is akin to that of Keats’s "Ode on a Grecian Urn," where beauty is frozen in art yet haunted by the knowledge of its isolation from life’s flux.
Thomas’s poem can be fruitfully compared to W.B. Yeats’s "Sailing to Byzantium," which similarly grapples with the artist’s desire to transcend decay through enduring form. Both poets employ imagery of metallurgy and sculpture, though where Yeats envisions his soul as a golden bird, Thomas’s images are more rugged, less ornamental.
Philosophically, the poem engages with Heidegger’s concept of "poetic dwelling"—the idea that language does not merely describe the world but constructs it. Thomas’s insistence on the materiality of words ("Cut them in rock") aligns with this view, suggesting that poetry is not ephemeral but a tangible act of world-building.
"Conceive these images in air" is a testament to Dylan Thomas’s belief in the enduring power of poetry, even as it acknowledges the forces that threaten to erode it. Through elemental imagery, paradox, and a commanding yet vulnerable voice, the poem enacts the very struggle it describes—the fight to preserve meaning in a mutable world. It is a work that rewards slow, attentive reading, revealing new layers with each encounter, much like the hardened, re-forming signs it celebrates. In the end, Thomas’s poem does not merely describe artistic resilience; it embodies it.
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