Collected Poems 1934-1952

Collected Poems 1934-1952

Book - 1966
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Publisher: London : Dent, 1966
Branch Call Number: 821.9/THO
Alternative Title: Elegy : Too proud to die, broken and blind he died
In the white giant's thigh through throats where many rivers meet, the curlews cry
Lament when I was a windy boy and a bit
Poem on his birthday, in the mustardseed sun
Over Sir John's Hill
In country sleep never and never, my girl riding far and near
Fern Hill now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
Holy Spring o out of a bed of love
Ballad of the long-legged bait the bows glided down, and the coast
Vision and prayer who are you who is born in the next room
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
Among those killed in the dawn raid was a man aged a hundred
When I woke, the town spoke
Once below a time
Ceremony after a fire raid myselves the grievers greive among the street burned to tireless death
On the marriage of a virgin walking alone in a multitude of loves when morning's light
In my craft or sullen art
There was a saviour
On a wedding anniversary the sky is torn across
A winter's tale
Deaths and entrances on almost the incendiary eve
Do not go gentle into that good night
Into her lying down head
The hunchback in the park
Unluckily for a death
This side of the truth
To others than you friend by enemy I call you out
Love in the asylum a stranger has come
Poem in October, it was my thirtieth year to heaven
A refusal to mourn the death, by fire, of a child in London
The conversation of prayer
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes
If my head hurt a hair's foot
A saint about to fall
On no work of words now for three lean months in the bloody
The tombstone told when she died
How shall my animal
Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Once it was the colour of saying
After the funeral, mule praises, brays
The spire cranes. Its statue is an aviary
O make me a mask and a wall to shut from your spies
It is the sinners' dust-tongued bell claps me to churches
We lying by seasond, watching yellow
When all my five and country senses see
I make this in a warring absence
Because the pleasure-bird whistles after the hot wires
Altarwise by owl-light in the half-way house
Then was my neophyte
And death shall hve no dominion
Grief thief of time crawls off
Find meat on bones that soon have none
I have longed to move away
Should lanterns shine, the holy face
The hand that signed the paper felled a city
Foster the light nor veil the manshaped moon
Ears in the turrets hear
How soon the servant sun
A grief ago
Why East wind chills and south wind cools
Naw say nay, man dry man
Was there a time when dancers with their fiddles
Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month
Out of the sighs a little comes
Do you not father me, nor the erected arm
Here in this spring, stars float along the void
Shall gods be said to thump the clouds
The seed-at-zero shall not storm
To-day, this insect, and the world I breathe
Incarnate devil in a talking snake
I, in my intricate image, stride on two levels
all all and all the dry worlds lever
My world is pyramid
I dreamed my genesis in sewat of sleep, breaking
I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain
Light breaks where no sun shines
In the beginning was the three-pointed star
From love's first fevert to her plague, from the soft second
When, like a running grave, time tracks you down
Our enunuch dreams, all seedless in the light
If I were tickled by the rub of love
Where once the waters of your face
My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Before I knocked and flesh let enter
A process in the weather of the heart
When once the twilight locks no longer
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Especially when the October wind


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