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From Dylan Thomas, “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”
All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea,
One Christmas was like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that
so much like another, in those years around the sea- was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged
town corner now and out of all sound except the distant fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow
speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into
sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the
days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero
twelve days and twelve nights when I was six. and the firemen.

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