All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find.
Dylan ThomasAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: welsh
- Born: October 27, 1914
- Died: November 9, 1953
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