Poetry Forum Areas

Introduce Yourself

New to PoetrySoup? Introduce yourself here. Tell us something about yourself.

Looking for a Poem

Can't find a poem you've read before? Looking for a poem for a special person or an occasion? Ask other member for help.

Writing Poetry

Ways to improve your poetry. Post your techniques, tips, and creative ideas how to write better.

High Critique

For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!

How do I...?

Ask PoetrySoup Members how to do something or find something on PoetrySoup.



You have an ad blocker! We understand, but...

PoetrySoup is a small privately owned website. Our means of support comes from advertising revenue. We want to keep PoetrySoup alive, make it better, and keep it free. Please support us by disabling your ad blocker on PoetrySoup. See how to enable ads while keeping your ad blocker active. Also, did you know you can become a PoetrySoup Lifetime Premium Member and block ads forever...while getting many more great features. Take a look! Thank you!
Get Your Premium Membership


Hold Hard These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoos Month

by
 Hold hard, these ancient minutes in the cuckoo's month,
Under the lank, fourth folly on Glamorgan's hill,
As the green blooms ride upward, to the drive of time;
Time, in a folly's rider, like a county man
Over the vault of ridings with his hound at heel,
Drives forth my men, my children, from the hanging south.
Country, your sport is summer, and December's pools By crane and water-tower by the seedy trees Lie this fifth month unskated, and the birds have flown; Holy hard, my country children in the world if tales, The greenwood dying as the deer fall in their tracks, The first and steepled season, to the summer's game.
And now the horns of England, in the sound of shape, Summon your snowy horsemen, and the four-stringed hill, Over the sea-gut loudening, sets a rock alive; Hurdles and guns and railings, as the boulders heave, Crack like a spring in vice, bone breaking April, Spill the lank folly's hunter and the hard-held hope.
Down fall four padding weathers on the scarlet lands, Stalking my children's faces with a tail of blood, Time, in a rider rising, from the harnessed valley; Hold hard, my country darlings, for a hawk descends, Golden Glamorgan straightens, to the falling birds.
Your sport is summer as the spring runs angrily.

Poem by
Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem - Hold Hard These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoos MonthEmail Poem | Create an image from this poem

Poems are below...


Top Dylan Thomas Poems

Analysis and Comments on Hold Hard These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoos Month

Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Hold Hard These Ancient Minutes In The Cuckoos Month here.