Proud-pied April: Stars at elbow and foot

Our final poem for National Poetry Month is from Dylan Thomas. We last heard from him three years ago, so we're due.

We should also visit this particular piece because I’ve dragged you through a lot of death this month, for some reason. Between Irish history, World War I and various terror activities, we’ve waded through a lot of blood. So let’s allow Thomas to take us beyond that mortal threshold, when the clean bones are gone. It’s a good way to see us out of this April.

“And Death Shall Have No Dominion”

And death shall have no dominion.

Dead man naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

Though they go mad they shall be sane,

Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;

Though lovers be lost love shall not;

And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.

Under the windings of the sea

They lying long shall not die windily;

Twisting on racks when sinews give way,

Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;

Faith in their hands shall snap in two,

And the unicorn evils run them through;

Split all ends up they shan't crack;

And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.

No more may gulls cry at their ears

Or waves break loud on the seashores;

Where blew a flower may a flower no more

Lift its head to the blows of the rain;

Though they be mad and dead as nails,

Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;

Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,

And death shall have no dominion.