Not for the Proud Man Apart from the Raging Moon I Write

Must wash off the stickiness of another Stephen Gyllenhaal blog posting with a moment with A Real Artist—in this case, the transcendent Dylan Thomas:

In My Craft or Sullen Art

[Dylan Thomas by Alfred Janes]

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.

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