Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #239902 in Books
• Published on: 1971-06
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 203 pages

Amazon.com Review
Dylan Thomas's poems gambol and frisk across the tongue and imagination like those of few poets I have ever read. His choicely crafted (and often synaesthetic) phrases, his musicality, and his laughingly lilting language are nicely captured by the first two stanzas of Fern Hill--read it aloud for full effect:

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 honored 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...

This collection of his poems contains only those pieces he wished preserved and should be owned by anyone who loves beautifully crafted language.

Customer Reviews

The verses are like spells that bind you.
Dylan Thomas wrote his verse in extremely strict forms that he himself devised, employing rhyme (though mostly slant rhyme) and the more subtle effects of assonance in the formalist tradition, exercising the rigorous control and discipline also inherent in that tradition, although his skilled use of repetition (e.g., "And Death Shall Have No Dominion", "Fern Hill", and, of course, "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night") and his lines of varying, though strictly determined, length (as in "Fern Hill" and "Poem in October") achieve the musical qualities to which free verse aspires. In this way, Dylan Thomas represents the pinnacle of the formalists' craft and art, respecting, but not becoming bound by, the rules and metrics of tradition. Instead, he created his own rules and forms, to which he adhered with incredible strictness: his syllabic poems like "Fern Hill" are even more rigorous than the iambic line, which allows some freedom in the placement or substitution of other metrical feet. But DT's syllabic verse, though strict, does not govern the stresses in each line, allowing the natural rhythms of the language and phrases to flow, and the stresses to fall where they will, resulting in an incredible lyricism. Yet, DT also employed a regular meter when the building emphasis was needed, as in the anapestic final line of "Fern Hill": "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." That means/sea assonance demonstrates the subtle resonance that permeates his work, analogous to the final couplet in a sonnet. "Fern Hill" is music itself, but also meaning: the Welsh name "Dylan" means "the sea", and that final line is Dylan Thomas's signature on his own painterly-musical portrait of a place from his childhood. His best work ("Fern Hill", "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night", "And Death Shall Have No Dominion", "In My Craft, or Sullen Art", and "Poem in October") more than makes up for his less accessible, less lyrical verse (e.g., "A Grief Ago"). The inspiration that the New Apocalypse group and the Beats drew from him--from his poems and his stage presence--probably annoyed him, and certainly the poets in the Movement, which formed in reaction against the New Apocalypse, were even more annoyed, but Robert Conquest, who, along with Philip Larkin, Elizabeth Jennings, and Kingsley Amis, established the principles of the Movement poets in the New Lines anthology, has stated that he has always admired Thomas's finest works. In fact, the Movement's manifesto, published in New Lines, was thought of as too harsh by Larkin, leaving Kingsley Amis as one of Dylan Thomas's only absolute detractors. But many other poets, such as Theodore Roethke, Richard Hugo, and John Berryman, regarded Thomas as a master. The Collected Poems are uneven and at times erratic and obscure, but the brilliance of his words, their music and their magic, cannot be denied. His verse, as disciplined as that of Richard Wilbur, yet in a different way, is verse that rages, unlike Wilbur's elegant and elegaic poems: Richard Wilbur is the bright air, Dylan Thomas the brilliant fire. And yet he is not always in a bardic transport: the blinding whirlwind of his poem "Author's Prologue" is the opposite of the subdued, mixed feelings of hope and grief in "Poem in October", a work of restraint. Thomas himself lamented the fact that his verse would most likely be read, not by real people who live and struggle and die, but by pedantic academics, like the old men in Yeats's "The Scholars". As said in his poem, "In My Craft or Sullen Art", his poems are his letters to you:

"...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."

beyond compare; the pinnacle of artistic beauty
i won't attempt a scholarly review as another person already has. i am disappointed that so fe people have reviewed this book-- has no one read it? it is a shame that people shun poetry. i try to introduce these poems to people i think will appreciate them, but so few are willing to devote the time, energy, imagination, or focus required to truly appreciate great poetry. but these poems, more than any others for me, are the pinnacle of artistic achievement. the surge of excitement and understanding that coursed through me when i finally began to understand the meanings and intricacies of "lament" (on an airplane, incidentally)cannot be described, nor can the awe i felt at first reading the line (in "after the funeral"): her fist of a face died clenched on a round pain

dylan thomas, despite the glowing and scathing platitudes poured upon him, shines through as a complete individual and a genius of language. and if you buy this book, invest in a copy of the 2 cassette package entitled "dylan thomas reads his poetry" as well. many of his poems take on entirely different lives when heard through his magnificant voice. my favorites: after the funeral, death shall have no dominion, do not go gentle, ceremony after a fire raid, refusal to mourn, among those killed in the dawn raid..., fern hill, over sir john's hill, lament, elegy

Dylan Thomas as he wanted to be remembered
The question is, do you get this book for cheap, or the brand new POEMS OF DYLAN THOMAS [WITH CD] for not cheap. That depends on your wallet and your love of Thomas.

If you are new to Thomas, perhaps coming here intrigued after reading the often-anthologized "Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night," I heartily recommend this book. These are all the poems Thomas wanted to live on in his name. They are excellent across the board, with a lot that I personally really loved. Thomas in some ways reminds me of Auden or Yeats (or even Blake) in terms of his mysticism and commitment to sound and form. I also think of Poe, who is often criticized by literary types, but much loved by the general public. There's a reason Thomas is popular. Even his most fantastical lines have a way of resonating. Many are unforgettable:

"Your mouth, my love, the thistle in the kiss?"

For those who already know they love Thomas, the new book + CD is a worthy investment. There's nothing wrong with this one though. It fits in a (coat) pocket and contains everything Thomas wanted, plus the posthumous "Elegy." It is tragic he died young, but he left some great work behind. This is it in a nutshell. Highly recommended, 5/5 stars.