Explore "Among those Killed in the Dawn Raid was a Man Aged a Hundred" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When the morning was waking over the war / He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died, / The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide, / He dropped where he had loved on the burst pavement stone
And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor.
Tell his street on its back he stopped a sun / And the craters of his eyes grew springshoots and fire / When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang.
Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart.
The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound / Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage.
O keep his bones away from that common cart, / The morning is flying on the wings of his age / And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.