When the morning was waking over the war <br />He put on his clothes and stepped out and he died, <br />The locks yawned loose and a blast blew them wide, <br />He dropped where he loved on the burst pavement stone <br />And the funeral grains of the slaughtered floor. <br />Tell his street on its back he stopped a sun <br />And the craters of his eyes grew springshots and fire <br />When all the keys shot from the locks, and rang. <br />Dig no more for the chains of his grey-haired heart. <br />The heavenly ambulance drawn by a wound <br />Assembling waits for the spade's ring on the cage. <br />O keep his bones away from the common cart, <br />The morning is flying on the wings of his age <br />And a hundred storks perch on the sun's right hand.<br /><br />Dylan Thomas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/among-those-killed-in-the-dawn-raid-was-a-man-ag/
