Dylan+Thomas

Jackie Watts


 * Dylan Thomas**

Dylan Thomas was born on October 27, 1914 in Swansea, Wales. He liked living in Whales as a child. He attended Swansea Grammar School in 1925. At the age of 16 he dropped out of school to work for South Whales Daily Post. His father was a school master, and taught English at a local grammar school. He loved his father but was a cold and bitter person. On the other hand his mother was very loving. Dylan loved both of his parents. He said that his real education came from having the freedom to read any book in his father's library. Around the 1930's he mainly focused on writing poems, and started getting into short stories. His first poem was published when Dylan was a teenager. Throughout his life he was not only a poet and short story writer, he also was an essayist, journalist, screenwriter, and novelist. **Was there a Time** **by Dylan Thomas** **Fern Hill** **by [|Dylan Thomas] **
 * = Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles In children's circuses coul stay their troubles? There was a time they could cry over books, But tim has set its maggot on their track. Under the arc of the sky they are unsafe. What's never known is safest in this life. Under the skysigns they who have no arms Have cleanest hands, and, as the heartless ghost Alone's unhurt, so the blind man sees best = ||
 * Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green, The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes, And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves Trail with daisies and barley Down the rivers of the windfall light. And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home, In the sun that is young once only, Time let me play and be Golden in the mercy of his means, And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, And the sabbath rang slowly In the pebbles of the holy streams. All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air And playing, lovely and watery And fire green as grass. And nightly under the simple stars As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away, All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars Flying with the ricks, and the horses Flashing into the dark. And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all Shining, it was Adam and maiden, The sky gathered again And the sun grew round that very day. So it must have been after the birth of the simple light In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm Out of the whinnying green stable On to the fields of praise. And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long, In the sun born over and over, I ran my heedless ways, My wishes raced through the house high hay And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs Before the children green and golden Follow him out of grace. Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand, In the moon that is always rising, Nor that riding to sleep I should hear him fly with the high fields And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying Though I sang in my chains like the sea. ||