Now
Say nay,
Man dry man,
Dry lover
The deadrock base and blow the flowered anchor,
Should he, for centre sake, hop in the dust,
Forsake, the fool, the hardiness of anger.
Say nay,
Sir no say,
Death to the yes,the yes to death, the yesman and the answer,
Should he who split his children with a
Have brotherless his sister on the handsaw.
Say nay,
No say
Yea the dead stir,
And this, nor this, is shade, the landed crow,
He lying low with ruin in his ear,
The cockrel's tide upcasting from the fire.
Say nay,
So star fall,
So the ball fail,
So solve the mystic sun, the wife of light,
The sun that leaps on petals through a nought,the come-a-cropper rider of the flower.
Say nayA fig
The seal of fire,
Death hairy-heeled and the tapped ghost in wood,
We make me mystic as the arm of air,
The two-a-vein, the foreskin, and the cloud.
Dylan Thomas
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