Explore "Twenty-Four Years" by Dylan Thomas on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes. / (Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.) / In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor / Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun, / With my red veins full of money, / In the final direction of the elementary town / I advance for as long as forever is.