When you have ground such beauty down to dust
Dylan Thomas
1914 to 1953
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When you have ground such beauty down to dust
flies before the breath
And, at the touch, trembles lover’s fever,
Or sundered it to look the closer,
and made immense
At one side’s loss,
Turn inside out, and see at glance
Wisdom is folly, love is not,
Sense can but maim it, wisdom mar it,
Folly and make it true.
For folly was
When wisdom not in the soul
But in the body of trees and stones,
Was when sense found a way them
Growing on hills or shining under water.
Come in foolishness,
Go silly and be Christ’s good brother,
whose lovers were both wise and sensible
When folly stirred, warm in the foolish heart.
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