Though I Sang In My Chains Like The Sea

and nothing i cared,
at my sky blue trades,
that time allows so few
and such morning songs
before the children
green and golden
follow him out of grace.
nothing i cared,
in the lamb white days,
that time would take me
up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand, in the moon that is always rising, nor that riding to sleep i should hear him fly with the high fields and wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
o as i was young and easy in the mercy of his means, time held me green and dying
though i sang in my chains like the sea.
--dylan thomas
(from "fern hill")