AOM Meditations: "In my Craft or Sullen Art" by Dylan Thomas

 The Parthenon (1871) by Frederic Edwin Church

Thanks to a Friend for sending us this beautiful art

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Thanks to another Friend for sending us this beautiful poetry

 D Y L A N    T H O M A S

Today's poem is read by the poet, Dylan Thomas, 

recorded on this album from 1950

In my Craft or Sullen Art 

(1946)

by Dylan Thomas  

VOCAB: 
Spindrift: usually refers to spray, 
particularly to the spray blown from cresting waves during a gale.

Hear Dylan Thomas read his poem

I suggest  you click play, scroll down

And read the text along with Dylan

YouTube Direct Link: https://youtu.be/ceVjoNpH8xk

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In my Craft or Sullen Art 

(1946)

by Dylan Thomas

"In my craft or sullen art

Exercised in the still night

When only the moon rages

And the lovers lie abed

With all their griefs in their arms,

I labour by singing light

Not for ambition or bread

Or the strut and trade of charms

On the ivory stages

But for the common wages

Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart

From the raging moon I write

On these spindrift pages

Nor for the towering dead

With their nightingales and psalms

But for the lovers, their arms

Round the griefs of the ages,

Who pay no praise or wages

Nor heed my craft or art."

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As I thought through this poem,

It came to mind that this is similar to why I do AOMMD

Are there things you do 

For no other reason than 

You just love doing them?

I think those are very important things.

I think those are our true passions

And worth exploring

Worth our Time and Energy

AOM Meditations: "Fern Hill" by Dylan Thomas

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Thanks to a Friend for sending us this poetry

Fern Hill by Dylan Thomas

Dylan Thomas was a Welsh poet (1914-1953)

Fern Hill was his aunt’s farm 

where Dylan spent summers when he was a boy.

Vocab:

Dingle: a small wooded valley

Nightjars: nocturnal birds

Ricks: haystacks

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Fern Hill Read Aloud by Dylan Thomas:
Dylan reads it very musically - almost as if he is singing
The written poem is below the video
I suggest clicking play and then scroll down
to read the poem as he reads it

YouTube Direct Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XG1B_7r4y8

FERN HILL

by Dylan Thomas

"Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

The night above the dingle starry, 

Time let me hail and climb

Golden in the heydays of his eyes, 

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves

Trail with daisies and barley

Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns

About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,

In the sun that is young once only,

Time let me play and be  

Golden in the mercy of his means, 

And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves 

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, 

And the sabbath rang slowly

In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air 

And playing, lovely and watery and fire green as grass.

And nightly under the simple stars 

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars 

Flying with the ricks, and the horses

Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all 

Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

The sky gathered again 

And the sun grew round that very day. 

So it must have been after the birth of the simple light

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm 

Out of the whinnying green stable 

On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,

In the sun born over and over,

I ran my heedless ways, 

My wishes raced through the house high hay 

And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows

In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs

Before the children green and golden

Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me

Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand, 

In the moon that is always rising,

Nor that riding to sleep

I should hear him fly with the high fields 

And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land. 

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, 

Time held me green and dying

Though I sang in my chains like the sea." 

~Dylan Thomas

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NOTES:

(Bob Dylan, born Robert Zimmerman, 

borrowed his last name as a musician from Dylan Thomas.)