Dylan Thomas
dawn raid
When the morning was waking over the war
He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died,
The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide,
He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone
And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor.
Tell his street on it's back he stopped a sun
When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang.
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound
Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from the common cart,
The morning is flying on the wings of his age
And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.
- :
- Reading His Complete Recorded Poetry
- Pleasure Dome: Modern Poetry Read by its Creators: T.S....
- Poems On the Radio
- His Complete Recorded Poetry
- Dylan Thomas Reading His Complete Recorded Poetry
- Pleasure Dome: Audible Modern Poetry Read by its Creators
- The Caedmon Collection
- The Caedmon Poetry Collection
- Poetry Speaks
- Poetry on Record: 98 Poets Read Their Work, 1888-2006
- Under Milk Wood - A Play for Voices
- In Their Own Voices: A Century of Recorded Poetry
- 100 Great Poems - Classic Poets & Beatnik Freaks
- Ultimate Poetry & Story Collection
- Beat Generation - Music & Poetry
- Poetry On Record
- Favourite Poetry
- Dylan Thomas Reads His Own Poetry
- A Winters Tale - Dylan Thomas Poems
- Reading, Vol. 1