Friend, my enemy, I call you out. You, you, you there with a bad thorn in your side. You there, my friend, with a winning air. Who pawned the lie on me when he looked brassly at my shyest secret. With my whole heart under your hammer. That though I loved him for his faults as much as for his good. My friend were an enemy upon stilts with his head in a cunning cloud. -Dylan Thomas
Dylan ThomasAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: welsh
- Born: October 27, 1914
- Died: November 9, 1953
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