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It is the sinners’ dust-tongued bell claps me to churches
When, with his torch and hourglass, like a sulphur priest,
His beast heel cleft in a sandal,
Time marks a black aisle kindle from the brand of ashes,
Grief with dishevelled hands tear out the altar ghost
And a firewind kill the candle.
Over the choir minute I hear the hour chant:
Time’s coral saint and the salt grief drown a foul sepulchre
And a whirlpool drives the prayerwheel;
Moonfall and sailing emperor, pale as their tide-print,
Hear by death’s accident the clocked and dashed-down spire
Strike the sea hour through bellmetal.
There is loud and dark directly under the dumb flame,
Storm, snow, and fountain in the weather of fireworks,
Cathedral calm in the pulled house;
Grief with drenched book and candle christens the cherub time
From the emerald, still bell; and from the pacing weather-cock
The voice of bird on coral prays.
Forever it is a white child in the dark-skinned summer
Out of the font of bone and plants at that stone tocsin
Scales the blue wall of spirits;
From blank and leaking winter sails the child in colour,
Shakes, in crabbed burial shawl, by sorcerer’s insect woken,
Ding dong from the mute turrets.
I mean by time the cast and curfew rascal of our marriage,
At nightbreak born in the fat side, from an animal bed
In a holy room, in a wave;
And all love’s sinners in sweet cloth kneel to a hyleg image,
Nutmeg, civet, and sea-parsley serve the plagued groom and bride
Who have brought forth the urchin grief.
Dylan Thomas’s It is the sinners’ dust-tongued bell (1936) is a visceral exploration of time’s corrosive power, mortality, and the fraught interplay between spiritual yearning and earthly decay. Written against the backdrop of interwar anxieties and Thomas’s own existential wrestling, the poem synthesizes apocalyptic imagery, sacramental symbolism, and psychological intensity to interrogate humanity’s precarious dance with impermanence. This analysis examines the work through its historical context, thematic preoccupations, and avant-garde linguistic strategies, revealing how Thomas transforms personal and collective dread into a universal meditation on transience.
Composed in 1936, the poem emerges from a Europe teetering toward catastrophe. The Spanish Civil War had begun months earlier, and Thomas’s native Wales grappled with industrial decline. These tensions permeate the text’s imagery: the “firewind” (l. 6) and “storm, snow, and fountain in the weather of fireworks” (l. 13) evoke both natural and man-made destruction35. Thomas’s portrayal of Time as a “sulphur priest” (l. 2) wielding a “beast heel cleft in a sandal” (l. 3) merges biblical allusion with modernist disillusionment, reflecting the era’s loss of faith in religious and political institutions4. The poem’s ritualistic cadence-seen in phrases like “dust-tongued bell” (l. 1) and “prayerwheel” (l. 9)-mirrors the collective search for meaning amid societal fragmentation2.
Thomas reconceives time not as a neutral force but as a grotesque, sacerdotal figure. The opening stanza introduces Time as a “sulphur priest” (l. 2), conflating religious authority with hellish decay (“sulphur”) and animalistic violence (“beast heel”). This paradoxical imagery dismantles linear temporality, presenting existence as a series of violated sanctuaries: altars are desecrated (l. 5), candles extinguished (l. 6), and “sepulchres” drowned in “salt grief” (l. 8). The “whirlpool” (l. 9) metaphor underscores time’s cyclical, inescapable pull, echoing Thomas’s broader fascination with organic cycles of growth and rot5.
The poem subverts Christian iconography to expose spirituality’s entanglement with suffering. Grief becomes a demented acolyte, “tear[ing] out the altar ghost / And a firewind kill[ing] the candle” (ll. 5–6), while “cherub time” (l. 16) is baptized not in holy water but in storm and snow. This sacrilegious imagery critiques institutionalized religion’s failure to mediate human anguish, a theme Thomas revisits in works like There Was a Saviour. The “font of bone” (l. 19) and “crabbed burial shawl” (l. 22) further conflate birth and death, suggesting existence itself is a heretical rite14.
Amidst the cosmic upheaval, human agency collapses. The speaker is “clap[ped] to churches” (l. 1) by the bell-a passive recipient of fate-while the “white child” (l. 18) symbolizing innocence is besieged by “sorcerer’s insect[s]” (l. 22) and “mute turrets” (l. 23). Thomas’s recurrent “dumb[ness]” (l. 7, l. 23) motif reflects modernist alienation, paralleling Eliot’s “broken images” in The Waste Land. Even love, typically a redemptive force in lyric poetry, is reduced to a “plagued groom and bride” (l. 26) serviced by morbid spices (“nutmeg, civet, and sea-parsley”), underscoring the futility of human connection against temporal erosion25.
Thomas’s imagery operates on multiple registers:
Religious: “Altar ghost,” “prayerwheel,” and “font” juxtapose sacrality with decay.
Elemental: “Firewind,” “whirlpool,” and “tide-print” (l. 10) naturalize apocalyptic themes.
Bodily: “Font of bone” (l. 19) and “animal bed” (l. 24) biologize spiritual crises.
This layered symbolism creates a claustrophobic texture, immersing readers in the poem’s psychic landscape.
Thomas merges sensory realms to evoke disorientation:
Auditory/tactile: “dust-tongued bell” (l. 1)
Visual/kinetic: “whirlpool drives the prayerwheel” (l. 9)
Olfactory/visual: “sulphur priest” (l. 2)
Such fusion mirrors the speaker’s fractured perception of time and morality4.
Contradictory phrases like “cathedral calm in the pulled house” (l. 14) and “voice of bird on coral prays” (l. 17) destabilize meaning, reflecting modernity’s existential ambiguities. The “white child” (purity) emerging from “dark-skinned summer” (l. 18) further underscores life’s inherent contradictions15.
Thomas’s ambivalence toward his Welsh Nonconformist upbringing permeates the poem. The “holy room” (l. 25) defiled by an “animal bed” parallels his rejection of Calvinist austerity, while the “urchin grief” (l. 27) born to the “plagued groom and bride” may allegorize his own fraught marriage to Caitlin Macnamara3. Philosophically, the work echoes Heidegger’s Being and Time (1927) in its portrayal of humans as “thrown” into temporality, though Thomas replaces Heideggerian resoluteness with visceral despair.
With T.S. Eliot: Both poets fragment religious imagery to critique modernity, but Thomas’s primal rhythms contrast with Eliot’s cerebral allusiveness.
With Sylvia Plath: The “black aisle” (l. 4) and “burial shawl” (l. 22) prefigure Plath’s conflation of maternity and mortality in Morning Song.
With R.S. Thomas: Unlike R.S. Thomas’s sparse doubt, Dylan Thomas’s exuberant diction paradoxically intensifies his nihilism.
The poem’s power lies in its unflinching embrace of despair as aesthetic catalyst. By wedding baroque language to existential terror, Thomas transmutes personal and historical anguish into a timeless lament. The closing image of “urchin grief” (l. 27)-a hybrid of innocence and corruption-captures the human condition’s tragic duality, inviting readers to confront mortality’s shadow without succumbing to nihilism.
In It is the sinners’ dust-tongued bell, Thomas orchestrates a symphony of disintegration, where time’s “prayerwheel” (l. 9) grinds both hope and memory into ash. Yet within this bleak vision pulses a defiant vitality-the poet’s alchemical ability to forge beauty from decay, ensuring the work resonates as both elegy and ode to language’s redemptive spark.
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