Dylan Thomas
I
All all and
all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the
oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
Turns in the
earth that turns the ashen
Towns around on a wheel of fire.
How now my
flesh, my naked fellow,
Dug of the sea, the glanded morrow,
Worm in the
scalp, the staked and fallow.
All all and all, the corpse's lover,
Skinny
as sin, the foaming marrow,
All of the flesh, the dry worlds
lever.
II
Fear not the waking world, my mortal,
Fear not
the flat, synthetic blood,
Nor the heart in the ribbing metal.
Fear
not the tread, the seeded milling,
The trigger and scythe, the bridal
blade,
Nor the flint in the lover's
mauling.
Man of my flesh, the jawbone riven,
Know now the flesh's lock
and vice,
And the cage for the scythe-eyed raver.
Know, O my bone,
the jointed lever,
Fear not the screws that turn the voice,
And the face
to the driven lover.
III
All all and all the dry worlds
couple,
Ghost with her ghost, contagious man
With the womb of his
shapeless people.
All that shapes from the caul and suckle,
Stroke of
mechanical flesh on mine,
Square in these worlds the mortal
circle.
Flower, flower the people's fusion,
O light in zenith, the
coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh's vision.
Out of the sea, the
drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all
and all.