He will watch the hawk with an indifferent eye Rolled over on Europe: the sharp dew frozen to stars Marston, dropping it in the grate, broke his pipe Not to you I sighed. No not a word Acts passed beyond the boundary of mere wishing At the end of two months' holiday there came a night Different living is not living in different places An I can never be great man Beethoven's death mask Never being, but always at the edge of being My parents kept me from children who were rough What I expected, was In 1929 The port Moving through the silent crowd Who live under the shadow of a war Shapes of death haunt life How strangely this sun reminds me of my love To T.A.R.H. The prisoners Without that once clear aim, the path of flight Passing, men are sorry for the birds in cages Oh young men, oh young comrades I think continually of those who were truly great Your body is stars whose million glitter here After they have tired of the brilliance of cities Perhaps The funeral The express The landscape near an aerodrome The pylons In railway halls, on pavements near the traffic Abrupt and charming mover From all these events, from the slump, from the war, from the boom Not palaces, an era's crown Polar explorations The living values The uncreating chaos Exiles from their land, history their domicile An elemantary school classroom in a slum A footnote from Marx's Chapter, The working day Hoelderlin's old age Variations on my life Archaic head Dark and light The room above the square Thoughts during an air raid Two armies Ultima Ratio Regum A stopwatch and an ordnance map In no man's land The coward Fall of a city Port Bou To a Spanish poet Two kisses The little coat The vase of tears Stranger, you who hide my love No Orpheus No Eurydice The double shame Auf dem wasser zu singen A separation The war god Air raid across the bay at Plymouth June The drowned Rejoice in the abyss A man-made world Memento The fates Epilogue to a human drama We fly through a night of stars Within our nakedness, nakedness still Were born; must die; were loved; must love Since we are what we are, what shall we be Exiles from single being or belief The immortal spirit is that single ghost One is the witness through whom the whole Darling of our hearts, drowning From a tree choked by ivy, rotted Poor girl, inhabitant of a stark land Already you are beginning to become The final act of love Dearest and nearest brother The dream One Absence Daybreak Lost Seascape The barn Dusk Meeting Ice Word The trance O In Attica Messenger Empty house To my daughter Missing my daughter Nocturne Sirmione peninsula Dylan Thomas (November 1953) After Rilke: Orpheus Eurydice Hermes.
Omits some of the author's early poems. Cf. his Collected poems, 1928-1985. P. 13.
Penn Rare copy 2 presented to the Penn Libraries in 2014 by David Azzolina.