I.....

Must lie.....

Still as Stone.....

By the wren bone.....

Wall hearing the moan.....

Of the mother hidden.....

And the shadowed head of  pain.....

Casting tomorrow like a thorn.....

And the midwives of miracle sing.....

Until the turbulent new born.....

Burns me his name and his flame.....

And the winged wall is torn....

By his torrid crown...

And the dark thrown....

From his loin...

To bright...

Light......

~ Dylan Thomas.....