It reminds me of long summer days spent outside with friends, climbing trees, or playing hide and seek, not doing much, not minding at all, just being -
I love it, and also makes me sad - it seems, these days are over. . . - innocence lost, too much to worry about?
Thank you so much for sharing, also the paintings are remarkable!
I’m delighted that you shared these amazing picture perfect words of Dylan Thomas. So many images of joyfulness in my imagination as I read and reread. ❤️
Thank you for sharing this poem with all of us. The line that struck me was "Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying". What a contrast between youth and the end of it all. Time always present, always ticking away moment by moment. And in-between the ticks of the clock there is a minuscule moment of life, joy, bliss and peace. I wonder how many of us reveal in the in-between and find the joy in being able to hear the next tick of the clock. Time holds us in its grasp and we can either embrace it or rage against it, either way time will continue so let us choose wisely.
I had never read this poem before.My favorite lines were “And the Sabbath rang slowly in the pebbles of the holy streams.” I remember when earlier generations had to memorize poems to read out loud. I wonder if I could memorize some of the vivid phrases as shorthand for seeing how beautiful life is. There is so much cruelty and suffering in the world that I need to look for the awe and wonder that are available daily in nature. Yesterday, I saw a Cooper’s hawk gliding in the sky, and in this poem I learned about nightjays. Some of the language was difficult for me, so I appreciate the commentary to understand the poem better. I googled ricks , since I didn’t understand flying with the ricks and horses. I learned about a lot of men named Rick and a cord of firewood.🤣Thanks for the inspiration - would like to learn more.
I would love to go line by line and discuss what he means in each stanza. It’s so wonderfully full of imagery and reminds me of my days on our family farm (before I became a “laborer”).
Susan, this title jumped out at me due to a lovely interview that remains fresh in my mind. Krista Tippett of On Being is interviewing the English naturalist and writer Michael McCarthy about his book The Moth Snowstorm, which I read and loved. During the interview, McCarthy begins to express his love for spring beautifully, and it as a metaphor for rebirth, as do I, being a long-time lover of wildflowers and photography, when he mentions his woodland scientist friend saying to him “I just see life now as how many springs I've got left." This quote will forever stay with me as I now think the same thing: How many more springs will I be able to see?
Loved this poem too, Susan. I remember it from my school days. Thank you for sharing it. It's utterly visceral. I hope to be uplifted for scores of Springs yet. Decades would do.
It even inspired a rewrite of a Spring poem for Equinox. See what you and your readers think.
"I was prince of the apple towns and lived like a young boy" definitely brought back carefree, wonderful childhood memories. We had an apple tree in our yard and we, me and my other four siblings were princes and princesses of the apple towns (tree). That tree brought us hours of joy. We nailed boards in it so that we could climb it and never once complained. Thank you for sharing Susan as I had never heard of this poem or author.
Truly a masterwork, I just love it. “And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,” particularly caught me, the feeling familiar in that, just the happiness it portrays. That’s a bittersweet memory.
I believe that I will need to read this at least another 10 times. At first read it seems very eloquent, somewhat biblical, and melancholic.Need time to reflect.
A million thanks for sharing this marvel. Yes, as you say, Susan, "it’s an hymn, a songbird, a devotion." An ode to Youth's breath and pulsebeat so in rhythm with earth. We miss it after childhood, that timeless magic's stirring, thrilling its way into our bloodstream and our soul. "Down the rivers of the windfall light" as they beautifully haunt us forever. A joy to be re:awakened into it today! Though I've not read 'Fern Hill' again for a few years, somehow it's always close, and always fresh:
My sciencey Dad was a major aficionado of Dylan Thomas' writings and recordings, from 'A Child's Christmas in Wales' and 'Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night' to the remarkable play, 'Under Milkwood' -- all heard in our home from time to time, thanks to the poet's early recordings. What a revelation to see my laconic father's facial expression whilst he listened -- clues to his own 'quiet life's depth at its centre. (a sweet secret he gave me: 'Fern Hill' was born the same year as I was, just as WWII ended...)
Here's the poet himself reading it for us, his lilting Welsh voice vivifying its effect as no other can: may it spark shivers of his essential spirit to hum and tingle yours too ...
Read this several times probably read it some more, I feel I'll just marinate in it
let it soak in my bones for a bit, like a love song playing the heartstring for the perspective
lies in present of being, a soul wake. Somethings our to visceral for words there just met to be felt with heart 💙Lovely times
In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means,
It is a wonderful, extraordinary poem -
It reminds me of long summer days spent outside with friends, climbing trees, or playing hide and seek, not doing much, not minding at all, just being -
I love it, and also makes me sad - it seems, these days are over. . . - innocence lost, too much to worry about?
Thank you so much for sharing, also the paintings are remarkable!
Aren't they?
So glad you loved it.
I’m delighted that you shared these amazing picture perfect words of Dylan Thomas. So many images of joyfulness in my imagination as I read and reread. ❤️
One of my favorites…
The sky gathered again
And the sun grew round that very day.
💙☀️
I can not understand it like native english speakers but i felt it.🌹❤️🙏
Sometimes that all we to need do . Is just feel it, the way it speak to heart is the way it was might to be...
Yes, that’s right. I agree. 🌹🙏❤️
Thank you for sharing this poem with all of us. The line that struck me was "Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means, Time held me green and dying". What a contrast between youth and the end of it all. Time always present, always ticking away moment by moment. And in-between the ticks of the clock there is a minuscule moment of life, joy, bliss and peace. I wonder how many of us reveal in the in-between and find the joy in being able to hear the next tick of the clock. Time holds us in its grasp and we can either embrace it or rage against it, either way time will continue so let us choose wisely.
I had never read this poem before.My favorite lines were “And the Sabbath rang slowly in the pebbles of the holy streams.” I remember when earlier generations had to memorize poems to read out loud. I wonder if I could memorize some of the vivid phrases as shorthand for seeing how beautiful life is. There is so much cruelty and suffering in the world that I need to look for the awe and wonder that are available daily in nature. Yesterday, I saw a Cooper’s hawk gliding in the sky, and in this poem I learned about nightjays. Some of the language was difficult for me, so I appreciate the commentary to understand the poem better. I googled ricks , since I didn’t understand flying with the ricks and horses. I learned about a lot of men named Rick and a cord of firewood.🤣Thanks for the inspiration - would like to learn more.
Beautiful imagery that captures the lightness and rejuvenating nature of youth.
I would love to go line by line and discuss what he means in each stanza. It’s so wonderfully full of imagery and reminds me of my days on our family farm (before I became a “laborer”).
For me, the passage that hit me was:
“In the sun that is young once only,
Time let me play and be
Golden in the mercy of his means”
Susan, this title jumped out at me due to a lovely interview that remains fresh in my mind. Krista Tippett of On Being is interviewing the English naturalist and writer Michael McCarthy about his book The Moth Snowstorm, which I read and loved. During the interview, McCarthy begins to express his love for spring beautifully, and it as a metaphor for rebirth, as do I, being a long-time lover of wildflowers and photography, when he mentions his woodland scientist friend saying to him “I just see life now as how many springs I've got left." This quote will forever stay with me as I now think the same thing: How many more springs will I be able to see?
Loved this poem too, Susan. I remember it from my school days. Thank you for sharing it. It's utterly visceral. I hope to be uplifted for scores of Springs yet. Decades would do.
It even inspired a rewrite of a Spring poem for Equinox. See what you and your readers think.
https://theseainme.substack.com/p/spring-equinox?r=46rss
Very few! So what to do with the remaining springtimes - in my case, too much - "My wishes raced through the house high hay”.
oh wow. i am breathless. i literally felt i jumped in the wave of his words; The same feeling when one jumps in the ocean. All senses immersed
"I was prince of the apple towns and lived like a young boy" definitely brought back carefree, wonderful childhood memories. We had an apple tree in our yard and we, me and my other four siblings were princes and princesses of the apple towns (tree). That tree brought us hours of joy. We nailed boards in it so that we could climb it and never once complained. Thank you for sharing Susan as I had never heard of this poem or author.
Truly a masterwork, I just love it. “And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,” particularly caught me, the feeling familiar in that, just the happiness it portrays. That’s a bittersweet memory.
I believe that I will need to read this at least another 10 times. At first read it seems very eloquent, somewhat biblical, and melancholic.Need time to reflect.
A million thanks for sharing this marvel. Yes, as you say, Susan, "it’s an hymn, a songbird, a devotion." An ode to Youth's breath and pulsebeat so in rhythm with earth. We miss it after childhood, that timeless magic's stirring, thrilling its way into our bloodstream and our soul. "Down the rivers of the windfall light" as they beautifully haunt us forever. A joy to be re:awakened into it today! Though I've not read 'Fern Hill' again for a few years, somehow it's always close, and always fresh:
My sciencey Dad was a major aficionado of Dylan Thomas' writings and recordings, from 'A Child's Christmas in Wales' and 'Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night' to the remarkable play, 'Under Milkwood' -- all heard in our home from time to time, thanks to the poet's early recordings. What a revelation to see my laconic father's facial expression whilst he listened -- clues to his own 'quiet life's depth at its centre. (a sweet secret he gave me: 'Fern Hill' was born the same year as I was, just as WWII ended...)
Here's the poet himself reading it for us, his lilting Welsh voice vivifying its effect as no other can: may it spark shivers of his essential spirit to hum and tingle yours too ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNWBVlIBjQ8