This poem by a young Dylan Thomas was first published in 1934. It seems to have a slightly more 'classical' feel than some of his later works. I love the way it paints such an exquisite natural landscape, while also drawing subtly on ancient beliefs in nature, with themes of sex, death, and rebirth.
The Green Man by Melanie Brear,
found on instagram as @melanie_brear_art
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
fountainhead;
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.
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