...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 (1914-1953)
from "
Fern Hill" (1944)
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© 2013 David B. Nance