Dylan Thomas

High on a hill

High on a hill,
Straddle and soak,
Out of the way of the eyes of men,
Out of the way,
Straddle her wrinkled knees
Until the day’s broken —
Christ, let me write from the heart,
War on the heart —
Puff till the adder is,
Breathe till the snake is home,
Inch on the old thigh
Till the bird has burst his shell,
And the carnal stem that stood
Blowing with the blood’s ebb,
Is fallen down
To the ground.