Dylan Thomas
Issue #105
Spring 2008
Scawmy, gray-souled November blinds the whale-road, pall draper over this ship bearing one whose name means of the ocean in a language he denied allegiance to, though his lines rang with cynghanedd—English reined by Celtic music, stitched tight as the...
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.
Purchase an archive subscription to see the rest of this article.