Lift up your face, light
Breaking, stare at the sky
Consoling for night by day
That chases the ghosts of the trees
And the ghosts of the brain,
Making fresh what was stale
In the unsleeping mummery
Of men and creatures horribly
Staring at stone walls.
Lift up your head, let
Comfort come through the devil’s clouds,
The nightmare’s mist
Suspended from the devil’s precipice,
Let comfort come slowly, lift
Up your hand to stroke the light,
Its honeyed cheek, soft-talking mouth,
Lift up the blinds over the blind eyes.
Out of unsleeping cogitations,
When the skeleton of war
Is with the corpse of peace,
(Notes not in sympathy, discord, unease),
The only visitor,
Must come content.
Therefore lift up, see, stroke the light.
Content shall come after a twisted night
If only with sunlight.
Dylan Thomas’s "Lift Up Your Face" is a poem that oscillates between despair and redemption, darkness and illumination, war and peace. Written in Thomas’s characteristically rich, musical language, the poem is both an exhortation and a meditation—urging the reader to seek solace in light despite the encroaching shadows of the world. Thematically, it grapples with existential weariness, the aftermath of conflict, and the possibility of renewal. Stylistically, it is marked by Thomas’s signature density of imagery, his penchant for paradox, and his ability to evoke profound emotional resonance through incantatory rhythm.
This essay will explore the poem’s historical and biographical context, its central themes of light and darkness, its intricate use of literary devices, and its philosophical underpinnings. Additionally, it will consider how Thomas’s work fits within the broader landscape of mid-20th-century poetry, particularly in relation to the aftermath of World War II and the existential anxieties of the modern age.
Dylan Thomas (1914–1953) wrote during a period of immense global upheaval. The specter of World War II loomed over much of his mature work, and while Thomas himself did not serve as a soldier, the psychological and cultural scars of the conflict permeate his poetry. "Lift Up Your Face" can be read as a response to the devastation of war—both literal and metaphysical. The "skeleton of war" and the "corpse of peace" suggest a world in which violence has not only destroyed lives but also the very possibility of tranquility.
Thomas’s personal struggles—his battles with alcoholism, financial instability, and a fraught marriage—also inform the poem’s tone of weary resilience. The call to "lift up your face" is not just a general exhortation but a deeply personal one, echoing Thomas’s own oscillations between despair and creative vitality. His work often dwells on the tension between decay and rebirth, and this poem is no exception.
The central motif of the poem is light as a force of renewal. The opening command—"Lift up your face, light / Breaking"—immediately establishes light as an active, almost divine presence. It is not passive illumination but something that breaks, suggesting both violence (as in the breaking of dawn) and revelation. The light is consoling, a counterforce to the "ghosts of the trees / And the ghosts of the brain," which symbolize lingering traumas and unresolved fears.
The poem’s middle section introduces a more sinister darkness: "the devil’s clouds," "the nightmare’s mist," and "the devil’s precipice." These images evoke a world teetering on the edge of despair, where comfort must come "slowly," almost reluctantly. Yet, even here, the speaker insists on the possibility of solace, urging the reader to "stroke the light," to engage with it physically, as one might caress a loved one. The light is anthropomorphized—it has a "honeyed cheek" and a "soft-talking mouth"—making it tender, intimate, and alive.
The final stanza introduces a paradox: "the skeleton of war / Is with the corpse of peace." War and peace are both dead, yet the poem does not succumb to nihilism. Instead, it insists that "Content shall come after a twisted night / If only with sunlight." The conditional "if only" is crucial—it acknowledges that redemption is not guaranteed, but it is possible. The poem thus becomes an act of faith in the cyclical nature of light and darkness, despair and hope.
Thomas’s poetic style is renowned for its musicality, and "Lift Up Your Face" is no exception. The repetition of "Lift up" functions as a refrain, reinforcing the poem’s exhortatory tone. The rhythm is incantatory, almost prayer-like, drawing the reader into its meditative cadence.
The imagery is densely layered, often juxtaposing opposing forces: light and dark, comfort and nightmare, war and peace. The phrase "unsleeping mummery" is particularly striking—"mummery" suggests a grotesque, theatrical performance, while "unsleeping" implies an endless, exhausting spectacle. Together, they evoke the absurdity and relentlessness of human suffering.
Thomas also employs paradox to heighten the poem’s tension. The "ghosts of the trees" suggests that even nature is haunted, while the "blind eyes" beneath the blinds imply a willful refusal to see. The final lines—"Content shall come after a twisted night / If only with sunlight"—embrace contradiction: contentment is conditional, yet the poem ends on a note of cautious optimism.
The poem can be read through an existentialist lens, particularly in its insistence on finding meaning despite despair. The "unsleeping cogitations" suggest a mind tormented by thought, unable to rest—a state familiar to existentialist writers like Sartre and Camus. Yet Thomas’s resolution is not despair but an active reaching toward light.
There is also a quasi-religious dimension to the poem. The light is not just natural but almost sacramental—a force that can cleanse and renew. The act of lifting one’s face to the sky recalls prayer, and the "devil’s clouds" suggest a cosmic struggle between good and evil. Yet Thomas resists overt religiosity; his light is sensual, tangible, something to be touched and spoken to.
Thomas’s work is often compared to that of other mid-century poets grappling with war and existential dread. W.H. Auden’s "September 1, 1939" similarly explores the tension between despair and hope, though Auden’s tone is more detached, his language more cerebral. In contrast, Thomas’s poem is visceral, its imagery more immediate.
Another illuminating comparison is with T.S. Eliot’s "The Waste Land," which also depicts a fractured world in need of renewal. However, where Eliot’s redemption is ambiguous, Thomas’s is more direct: light will come, even if it is slow and uncertain.
"Lift Up Your Face" is a poem of profound resilience. It acknowledges darkness—war, nightmares, ghosts—but refuses to let them have the final word. The light it invokes is not a naive optimism but a hard-won faith, something that must be actively sought, touched, and spoken to.
In an age still shadowed by war and existential anxiety, Thomas’s poem remains startlingly relevant. Its insistence on lifting one’s face to the light, despite everything, is a testament to poetry’s enduring power to console and galvanize. It is a poem that does not deny suffering but refuses to be consumed by it—and in that refusal, it finds a kind of redemption.
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