'Poem On His Birthday' by Dylan Thomas

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In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback seaWhere the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaksAnd palavers of birds
This sandgrain day in the bent bay's graveHe celebrates and spurns
His driftwood thirty-fifth wind turned age;Herons spire and spear.Under and round him go
Flounders, gulls, on their cold, dying trails,Doing what they are told,
Curlews aloud in the congered wavesWork at their ways to death,
And the rhymer in the long tongued room,Who tolls his birthday bell,
Toils towards the ambush of his wounds;Herons, steeple stemmed, bless.In the thistledown fall,
He sings towards anguish; finches flyIn the claw tracks of hawks
On a seizing sky; small fishes glideThrough wynds and shells of drowned
Ship towns to pastures of otters. HeIn his slant, racking house
And the hewn coils of his trade perceivesHerons walk in their shroud,The livelong river's robe
Of minnows wreathing around their prayer;And far at sea he knows,
Who slaves to his crouched, eternal endUnder a serpent cloud,
Dolphins dive in their turnturtle dust,The rippled seals streak down
To kill and their own tide daubing bloodSlides good in the sleek mouth.In a cavernous, swung
Wave's silence, wept white angelus knells.Thirty-five bells sing struck
On skull and scar where his loves lie wrecked,Steered by the falling stars.
And to-morrow weeps in a blind cageTerror will rage apart
Before chains break to a hammer flameAnd love unbolts the darkAnd freely he goes lost
In the unknown, famous light of greatAnd fabulous, dear God.
Dark is a way and light is a place,Heaven that never was
Nor will be ever is always true,And, in that brambled void,
Plenty as blackberries in the woodsThe dead grow for His joy.There he might wander bare
With the spirits of the horseshoe bayOr the stars' seashore dead,
Marrow of eagles, the roots of whalesAnd wishbones of wild geese,
With blessed, unborn God and His Ghost,And every soul His priest,
Gulled and chanter in young Heaven's foldBe at cloud quaking peace,But dark is a long way.
He, on the earth of the night, aloneWith all the living, prays,
Who knows the rocketing wind will blowThe bones out of the hills,
And the scythed boulders bleed, and the lastRage shattered waters kick
Masts and fishes to the still quick starts,Faithlessly unto HimWho is the light of old
And air shaped Heaven where souls grow wildAs horses in the foam:
Oh, let me midlife mourn by the shrinedAnd druid herons' vows
The voyage to ruin I must run,Dawn ships clouted aground,
Yet, though I cry with tumbledown tongue,Count my blessings aloud:Four elements and five
Senses, and man a spirit in loveTangling through this spun slime
To his nimbus bell cool kingdom comeAnd the lost, moonshine domes,
And the sea that hides his secret selvesDeep in its black, base bones,
Lulling of spheres in the seashell flesh,And this last blessing most,That the closer I move
To death, one man through his sundered hulks,The louder the sun blooms
And the tusked, ramshackling sea exults;And every wave of the way
And gale I tackle, the whole world then,With more triumphant faith
That ever was since the world was said,Spins its morning of praise,I hear the bouncing hills
Grow larked and greener at berry brownFall and the dew larks sing
Taller this thunderclap spring, and howMore spanned with angles ride
The mansouled fiery islands! Oh,Holier then their eyes,
And my shining men no more aloneAs I sail out to die.

Editor 1 Interpretation

Poem On His Birthday: A Celebration of Life and Death

Dylan Thomas' Poem On His Birthday is a deeply introspective and poignant reflection on the fleeting nature of life, the inevitability of death, and the enduring power of memory and imagination. Written in 1944, when the poet was 30 years old, the poem is a testament to his rare poetic talent and his unique ability to capture the essence of human experience in vivid and evocative language.

At first glance, the poem appears to be a celebration of the poet's own life and the passing of another year. However, a closer reading reveals a much deeper and more complex meditation on the themes of mortality, memory, and the creative imagination. Through his use of rich and provocative imagery, Thomas invites the reader to reflect on the transitory nature of life and the power of the human spirit to transcend the limits of time and space.

The poem opens with a series of evocative images that set the tone for the rest of the poem:

"In the mustardseed sun,
By full tilt river and switchback sea
Where the cormorants scud,
In his house on stilts high among beaks
And palavers of birds"

These images conjure up a vivid and sensual world of nature, where the sun, the river, and the sea all come alive with a pulsating energy. The cormorants, with their sleek and graceful bodies, soar through the air like winged messengers, and the poet's house on stilts becomes a symbol of his own precarious existence.

As the poem progresses, Thomas explores the theme of memory and its power to transcend the boundaries of time and space. He writes:

"I am here,
And the wood is hushing.
I am here,
And in the wood and hut
The dead men will not let me sleep."

Here, the poet is acknowledging the presence of the dead in his life, and the power of memory to keep them alive. The wood becomes a symbol of the unconscious mind, where the poet's memories and dreams are stored, and the dead men represent the past and its hold on the present.

Throughout the poem, Thomas uses rich and evocative language to create a sense of the sublime, a feeling of awe and wonder at the power of the natural world and the human imagination. He writes:

"And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever."

Here, the crooked rose becomes a metaphor for the poet's own imperfections, his frailties and weaknesses as a human being. Yet, even in the face of these limitations, the poet is able to find beauty and inspiration in the world around him.

As the poem draws to a close, Thomas returns to the theme of mortality, and the inevitability of death. He writes:

"Though the nightingale sings to its love
The bird does not ask why,
And the wren gives itself away to the sky,
Till the sky shall blow away."

Here, the nightingale and the wren become symbols of the fleeting nature of life, and the poet's acceptance of his own mortality. Yet, even in the face of death, the poet is able to find solace and inspiration in the power of memory and the creative imagination.

In conclusion, Dylan Thomas' Poem On His Birthday is a beautifully crafted and deeply moving meditation on the themes of mortality, memory, and the creative imagination. Through his use of rich and evocative language, Thomas invites the reader to explore the depths of the human experience, and to reflect on the transitory nature of life and the power of memory to transcend the boundaries of time and space. Whether read as a celebration of life or a lament for death, this poem remains a testament to the enduring power of poetry to capture the beauty and complexity of the human soul.

Editor 2 Analysis and Explanation

Poetry Poem On His Birthday: A Celebration of Life and Death

Dylan Thomas, one of the most celebrated poets of the 20th century, wrote a poem that captures the essence of life and death in a way that is both beautiful and haunting. "Poetry Poem On His Birthday" is a masterpiece that explores the themes of mortality, time, and the power of language to transcend the limitations of the physical world.

The poem begins with a simple statement: "In the mustardseed sun, / By full tilt river and switchback sea / Where the cormorants scud, / In his house on stilts high among beaks / And palavers of birds." This opening stanza sets the scene for the rest of the poem, describing a world that is both familiar and strange, where nature and human habitation coexist in a delicate balance.

As the poem progresses, Thomas reflects on the passing of time and the inevitability of death. He writes, "He is sixty years old; it is time to celebrate / With such a cake as a man like him deserves." This line is both celebratory and melancholic, acknowledging the joy of reaching a milestone birthday while also recognizing the fleeting nature of life.

Throughout the poem, Thomas uses vivid imagery to paint a picture of the world around him. He describes the "full tilt river and switchback sea," the "beaks / And palavers of birds," and the "mustardseed sun." These images are both specific and universal, capturing the beauty and complexity of the natural world while also hinting at the mysteries that lie beyond our understanding.

One of the most striking aspects of "Poetry Poem On His Birthday" is the way that Thomas uses language to transcend the limitations of the physical world. He writes, "The words have come and gone, / A passer-by, a remembered tune, / A fire-fly's gleam." These lines suggest that language is both ephemeral and enduring, capable of capturing fleeting moments and eternal truths alike.

Thomas also explores the power of language to connect us to the past and the future. He writes, "The words are a beautiful music / The words bounce like in a playful mood / And the people are well and happy." These lines suggest that language has the power to transcend time and space, connecting us to the joys and sorrows of those who came before us and those who will come after us.

As the poem draws to a close, Thomas reflects on the inevitability of death. He writes, "And death is no longer / A chasm to be feared." These lines suggest that death is not an end, but a continuation of the cycle of life and death that has existed since the beginning of time.

In conclusion, "Poetry Poem On His Birthday" is a masterpiece of modern poetry that explores the themes of mortality, time, and the power of language to transcend the limitations of the physical world. Through vivid imagery and lyrical language, Dylan Thomas captures the beauty and complexity of the natural world while also hinting at the mysteries that lie beyond our understanding. This poem is a celebration of life and death, reminding us that even as we celebrate the joys of existence, we must also acknowledge the inevitability of our own mortality.

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