From Dylan Thomas’ poem: Fern Hill
“And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns, a favorite haven
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home, safe and secure
In the sun that is young once only, naïve my mind
Time let me play and be, in rolling green meadows
Golden in the mercy of his means, let my imagination soar
And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves, yielded to my adoration
Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold, though forest trees always listened
And the sabbath rang slowly, from a natural chapel in a wood
In the pebbles of the holy streams.” peaceful bubbling waters in rambling brooks
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**Dylan’s poem reminded me of growing up on a dairy farm but of course his words are elegant☺️💛
MTB: Elaborating Lacunae in the Fragment or Keeping Things Whole
The Bag Lady 
Love the walk down into memory line, and you have used the poets words so well.
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Thanks so much!
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I love to listen to “Under Milkwood” (the Richard Burton one) at least once a year and I always register new bits of it – but I really ought to explore more of his other poems such as the one you reference here. I don’t think your words are any less elegant than the ones of his that you have added to – this is a fine poem evoking the landscape of childhood and you have done Dylan proud, Cheryl…
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Oh my goodness, thanks so much! And for reading!
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Cheryl, I like how this almost feels like a call and response between you and the chosen lines of poem.
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That’s how I felt☺️ Loved the poem
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🙂
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