In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night when only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed with all their griefs in their arms
I labour by singing light;
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charm upon the ivory stages
But for the common wages of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart from the raging moon
I write on these spin drift pages
Nor for the towering dead with their nightingales and psalms,
But for the lovers
Their arms round the griefs of the ages
Who pay no praise or wages nor heed my art or craft.
--Dylan Thomas
5 comments:
LL, well now I must be not of sane mind here. I googled your author and listened to a recording of him reading this poem and it's so sad. If you want to give it a listen here's the link
http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoet.do?poetId=7091#
You got anything a wee bit more cheerful there? ;-)
Dylan Thomas?
Darlin - I had a bad day today, and set to writing at night. And when that happens, I defaulted to reading Thomas and a few others.
WoFat - I started with Thomas, moved on to Yeates and thought of buying a motorcycle like Purdue and Lawrence. One of those days. The upside is that it may end up in an even better novel when it's cranked out.
LL I hope today is a much better day for you than yesterday. Thanks for sharing Thomas. I'm not big into poetry but I actually read trough this and googled it to gain a better understanding. I wanted to validate that what I thought the meaning behind the poem was (is), if I was at all right or at least in the ball park and surprisingly enough I was. I guess I am learning a thing or two from all this education stuff! ;-)
You know what happened to Perdue and Lawrence on their bikes.
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