The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my red blood: that drives an angry bough Nigh my veins red throb, and the sun is a fire That is time and is father of life; and is death; And the night is a rose.

The tree that lifts its boughs high to drink The light of day, there it grows, there it blocks The light of day, there it pours its rain asleep;
There are that grow, and none is lost like a lily.

I am one called a man, and yet not only I do breathe, It is not in the air to breathe in yet: there is love, And the wind too cries, from flowers of death.
Every flower is a moment, and is more than and less Than all that the sun awaits. The force that through the green fuse drives the flower.

• Dylan Thomas