Lie Still, Sleep BecalmedViewed 276 times
by Dylan Thomas
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.
Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.
Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.
A process in the weather of the heart
Turns damp to dry; the golden shot
Storms in the freezing tomb.
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide,
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
Before I knocked and flesh let enter,
With liquid hands tapped on the womb,
I who was shapeless as the water
One Christmas was so much like another, in those ye …
voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that …
whether it snowed for twelve...
My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
On almost the incendiary eve
Of several near deaths,
When one at the great least of your best loved
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see