I have Longed to Move Away by Dylan Thomas

I have longed to move away / From the hissing of the spent lie / And the old terrors' continual cry / Growing more terrible as the day

Goes over the hill into the deep sea; / I have longed to move away / From the repetition of salutes, / For there are ghosts in the air / And ghostly echoes on paper,

And the thunder of calls and notes.

I have longed to move away but am afraid; / Some life, yet unspent, might explode / Out of the old lie burning on the ground, / And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.

Neither by night's ancient fear, / The parting of hat from hair, / Pursed lips at the receiver, / Shall I fall to death's feather.

By these I would not care to die,

Half convention and half lie.