Joined: Tue Mar 27, 2012 8:27 pm Posts: 6256 Location: Beautiful South Florida
For those who prefer the written word:
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Joined: Tue Mar 27, 2012 5:30 pm Posts: 57118 Location: Pomeroy's Wine Bar
Burton... different poem
Richard Burton reads 'Elegy' (for his father) by Dylan Thomas
Uploaded on Feb 18, 2010
This poem was left unfinished at Dylan Thomas' death. The first seventeen lines were untouched, but the rest was reconstructed/edited from Thomas' manuscript by his friend Vernon Watkins.
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride
On that darkest day, Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow
Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost Or still all the numberless days of his death, though Above all he longed for his mother's breast
Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed. Let him find no rest but be fathered and found,
I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. the rivers of the dead
Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea. (An old tormented man three-quarters blind,
I am not too proud to cry that He and he Will never never go out of my mind. All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain,
Being innocent, he dreaded that he died Hating his God, but what he was was plain: An old kind man brave in his burning pride.
The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned. Even as a baby he had never cried; Nor did he now, save to his secret wound.
Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide. Here among the light of the lording sky An old man is with me where I go
Walking in the meadows of his son's eye On whom a world of ills came down like snow. He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres'
Last sound, the world going out without a breath: Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears, And caught between two nights, blindness and death.
O deepest wound of all that he should die On that darkest day. oh, he could hide The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
Until I die he will not leave my side.)
_________________ Do not go gentle into that good night. ___________ Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Joined: Tue Mar 27, 2012 8:27 pm Posts: 6256 Location: Beautiful South Florida
And Death Shall Have No Dominion
And death shall have no dominion. Dead man naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again; Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion. Under the windings of the sea They lying long shall not die windily; Twisting on racks when sinews give way, Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break; Faith in their hands shall snap in two, And the unicorn evils run them through; Split all ends up they shan't crack; And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion. No more may gulls cry at their ears Or waves break loud on the seashores; Where blew a flower may a flower no more Lift its head to the blows of the rain; Though they be mad and dead as nails, Heads of the characters hammer through daisies; Break in the sun till the sun breaks down, And death shall have no dominion.
Joined: Tue Mar 27, 2012 8:27 pm Posts: 6256 Location: Beautiful South Florida
Biography of Dylan Thomas
Dylan Marlais Thomas was a Welsh poet and writer who wrote exclusively in English. In addition to poetry, he wrote short stories and scripts for film and radio, which he often performed himself. His public readings, particularly in America, won him great acclaim; his sonorous voice with a subtle Welsh lilt became almost as famous as his works. His best-known works include the "play for voices" Under Milk Wood and the celebrated villanelle for his dying father, "Do not go gentle into that good night". Appreciative critics have also noted the craftsmanship and compression of poems such as "In my Craft or Sullen Art", and the rhapsodic lyricism in "And death shall have no dominion" and "Fern Hill".
Joined: Sun Jun 09, 2013 6:48 pm Posts: 691 Location: SW Scotland
IMO no-one can read poetry quite like the late Richard Burton, I've seen recently a lot of documentaries about him, he was very good and kind to his family up to the end.
He's irreplaceable. He also had a huge library of books in his Switzerland home, he loved books.
Nice job here RT
_________________ Since we are destined to live out our lives in the prison of our minds, our one duty is to furnish it well~Peter Ustinov
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Do not go gentle into that good night.
