[00:00:00] In the White Giant's Thigh - Dylan Thomas [00:00:13] Through throats where many rivers meet the curlews cry [00:00:18] Under the conceiving moon on the high chalk hill [00:00:23] And there this night I walk in the white giant's thigh [00:00:27] Where barren as boulders women lie longing still [00:00:31] To labour and love though they lay down long ago [00:00:36] Through throats where many rivers meet the women pray [00:00:40] Pleading in the waded bay for the seed to flow [00:00:44] Though the names on their w**d grown stones are rained [00:00:48] Away [00:00:49] And alone in the night's eternal curving act [00:00:54] They yearn with tongues of curlews for the unconceived [00:00:58] And immemorial sons of the cudgelling hacked [00:01:03] Hill who once in gooseskin winter loved all ice leaved [00:01:10] In the courters' lanes or twined in the ox roasting [00:01:14] Sun [00:01:15] In the wains tonned so high that the wisps of the hay [00:01:19] Clung to the pitching clouds or gay with any one [00:01:24] Young as they in the after milking moonlight lay [00:01:28] Under the lighted shapes of faith and their moonshade [00:01:32] Petticoats galed high or shy with the rough riding [00:01:37] Boys [00:01:39] Now clasp me to their grains in the gigantic glade [00:01:45] Who once green countries since were a hedgerow of [00:01:50] Joys [00:01:52] Time by their dust was flesh the swineherd rooted sly [00:01:58] Flared in the reek of the wiving sty with the rush [00:02:01] Light of his thighs spreadeagle to the dunghill sky [00:02:07] Or with their orchard man in the core of the sun's bush [00:02:11] Rough as cows' tongues and trashed with brambles their [00:02:16] Buttermilk [00:02:16] Manes under his quenchless summer barbed gold to the [00:02:22] Bone [00:02:24] Or rippling soft in the spinney moon as the silk [00:02:29] And ducked and draked white lake that harps to a hail [00:02:33] Stone [00:02:36] Who once were a bloom of wayside brides in the hawed [00:02:40] House [00:02:41] And heard the lewd wooed field flow to the coming [00:02:44] Frost [00:02:45] The scurrying furred small friars squeal in the dowse [00:02:50] Of day in the thistle aisles till the white owl [00:02:54] Crossed [00:02:55] Their breast the vaulting does roister the horned [00:02:59] Bucks climb [00:03:00] Quick in the wood at love where a torch of foxes [00:03:03] Foams [00:03:05] All birds and beasts of the linked night uproar and [00:03:09] Chime [00:03:11] And the mole snout blunt under his pilgrimage of domes [00:03:16] Or butter fat goosegirls bounced in a gambo bed [00:03:21] Their breasts full of honey under their gander king [00:03:25] Trounced by his wings in the hissing shippen long dead [00:03:29] And gone that barley dark where their clogs danced in [00:03:34] The spring [00:03:35] And their firefly hairpins flew and the ricks ran [00:03:40] Round [00:03:41] But nothing bore no mouthing babe to the veined hives [00:03:46] Hugged and barren and bare on Mother Goose's ground [00:03:52] They with the simple Jacks were a boulder of wives [00:03:57] Now curlew cry me down to kiss the mouths of their [00:04:03] Dust [00:04:05] The dust of their kettles and clocks swings to and fro [00:04:09] Where the hay rides now or the bracken kitchens rust [00:04:14] As the arc of the billhooks that flashed the hedges low [00:04:18] And cut the birds' boughs that the minstrel sap ran [00:04:23] Red [00:04:24] They from houses where the harvest bows hold me hard [00:04:29] Who heard the tall bell sail down the Sundays of the [00:04:33] Dead [00:04:35] And the rain wring out it's tongues on the faded yard [00:04:40] Teach me the love that is evergreen after the fall [00:04:45] Leaved [00:04:45] Grave after Beloved on the grass gulfed cross is [00:04:51] Scrubbed [00:04:51] Off by the sun and Daughters no longer grieved [00:04:57] Save by their long desirers in the fox cubbed [00:05:02] Streets or hungering in the crumbled wood to these [00:05:10] Hale dead and deathless do the women of the hill [00:05:16] Love for ever meridian through the courters' trees