Mrs Calloway’s Reviews > [(The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas)] [ By (author) Dylan Thomas, Edited by John Goodby ] [October, 2014] > Status Update
Mrs Calloway
is finished
We sail a boat upon the path,
Paddle with leaves
Down an ecstatic line of light,
Watching, not too aware
To make our senses take too much,
The unrolled waves
So starred with gravel,
The living vessels of the garden
Drifting in easy time;
— 5 hours, 59 min ago
Paddle with leaves
Down an ecstatic line of light,
Watching, not too aware
To make our senses take too much,
The unrolled waves
So starred with gravel,
The living vessels of the garden
Drifting in easy time;
![[(The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas)] [ By (author) Dylan Thomas, Edited by John Goodby ] [October, 2014]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1694912498l/135213468._SX50_.jpg)
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Mrs Calloway
is finished
Our boat is made to rise
By waves which grow again
Their own melodious height,
Into the rainbow’s shy embrace.
We shiver uncomplainingly,
And taste up on our lips, this minute,
The emerald caress,
And breath on breath of indigo.
— 5 hours, 54 min ago
By waves which grow again
Their own melodious height,
Into the rainbow’s shy embrace.
We shiver uncomplainingly,
And taste up on our lips, this minute,
The emerald caress,
And breath on breath of indigo.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
We try to steer;
The stream’s fantastically hard,
Too stiff to churn with leaves,
A sedge of broken stalks and shells.
— 5 hours, 56 min ago
The stream’s fantastically hard,
Too stiff to churn with leaves,
A sedge of broken stalks and shells.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
Rain cuts the place we tread,
The sparkling fountain for us
With no fountain boy but me
To balance on my palms
The water from a street of clouds.
— 6 hours, 1 min ago
The sparkling fountain for us
With no fountain boy but me
To balance on my palms
The water from a street of clouds.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
I have divided
Sense into sight and trust.
The certain is a fable.
— 6 hours, 15 min ago
Sense into sight and trust.
The certain is a fable.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
Purpose is gone;
I tried to hold, but can’t,
Compress, inflate, grow old,
With all the tackle of my certain magic
Stone hard to lift.
— 21 hours, 11 min ago
I tried to hold, but can’t,
Compress, inflate, grow old,
With all the tackle of my certain magic
Stone hard to lift.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
A cross of legs
That Christ was never nailed upon,
A sea of breasts,
A thousand sailing thighs.
— 21 hours, 14 min ago
That Christ was never nailed upon,
A sea of breasts,
A thousand sailing thighs.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
I build a tower and I pull it down;
The flying bird’s a feather,
Has no flesh or bone,
Carried by any wind to anywhere.
— 21 hours, 16 min ago
The flying bird’s a feather,
Has no flesh or bone,
Carried by any wind to anywhere.
Mrs Calloway
is finished
Go as my wish;
Then I shall go,
But in the light of going
Minutes are mine
I could devote to other things.
Stop has no minutes, but I go or die.
— 21 hours, 20 min ago
Then I shall go,
But in the light of going
Minutes are mine
I could devote to other things.
Stop has no minutes, but I go or die.
