The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.
by Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)
P.S. This has been among my list of poems to post for some time now, and only today I find that cosmic variance have beaten me to it!
Follow @telescoper
In the Dark 
July 19, 2011 at 12:50 pm
Who is the best Welsh poet with the surname Thomas?
July 19, 2011 at 2:31 pm
If you’d asked me that 5 years ago I wouldn’t have hesitated in saying Dylan Thomas….but that was before I discovered R.S. Thomas, who I think is on a different level altogether. Those two couldn’t be more different in style, of course, so it’s difficult comparing them.