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Fern Hill

Now as I was young and easy under the apple

About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,

The night above the dingle starry,

Time let me hail and

Golden in the heydays of his eyes,

And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple

And once below a time I lordly had the trees and

Trail with daisies and

Down the rivers of the windfall light.

And as I was green and carefree, famous among the

About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,

In the sun that is young once only,

Time let me play and

Golden in the mercy of his means,

And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the

Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear andcold,

And the sabbath rang

In the pebbles of the holy streams.

All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the

Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it

And playing, lovely and

And fire green as grass.

And nightly under the simple

As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,

All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables,

Flying with the ricks, and the

Flashing into the dark.

And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer

With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was

Shining, it was Adam and maiden,

The sky gathered

And the sun grew round that very day.

So it must have been after the birth of the simple

In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses

Out of the whinnying green

On to the fields of praise.

And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,

In the sun born over and over,

I ran my heedless ways,

My wishes raced through the house high

And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time

In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning

Before the children green and

Follow him out of grace.

Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time wouldtake

Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,

In the moon that is always rising,

Nor that riding to sleepI should hear him fly with the high

And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.

Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,

Time held me green and

Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

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Dylan Thomas

Was a Welsh poet and writer whose works include the poems "Do not go gentle into that good night" and "And death shall have no dominion"; the "p…

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