Explore "Where once the Waters of your Face" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Where once the waters of your face / Spun to my screws, your dry ghost blows, / The dead turns up its eye; / Where once the mermen through your ice
Pushed up their hair, the dry wind steers / Through salt and root and roe.
Where once your green knots sank their splice / Into the tided cord, there goes / The green unraveller,
His scissors oiled, his knife hung loose / To cut the channels at their source / And lay the wet fruits low.
Invisible, your clocking tides / Break on the love beds of the weeds;
The weed of love's left dry; / There round about your stones the shades / Of children go who, from their voids, / Cry to the dolphined sea.
Dry as a tomb, your coloured lids
Shall not be latched while magic glides / Sage on the earth and sky; / There shall be corals in your beds, / There shall be serpents in your tides, / Till all our sea-faiths die.