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Dylan Thomas - Holy Spring

by
 O
 Out of a bed of love
When that immortal hospital made one more moove to soothe
 The curless counted body,
 And ruin and his causes
Over the barbed and shooting sea assumed an army
 And swept into our wounds and houses,
I climb to greet the war in which I have no heart but only
 That one dark I owe my light,
Call for confessor and wiser mirror but there is none
 To glow after the god stoning night
And I am struck as lonely as a holy marker by the sun.
No Praise that the spring time is all Gabriel and radiant shrubbery as the morning grows joyful Out of the woebegone pyre And the multitude's sultry tear turns cool on the weeping wall, My arising prodgidal Sun the father his quiver full of the infants of pure fire, But blessed be hail and upheaval That uncalm still it is sure alone to stand and sing Alone in the husk of man's home And the mother and toppling house of the holy spring, If only for a last time.

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