This bread I break was once the oat,<\/p>\n
This wine upon a foreign tree<\/p>\n
Plunged in its fruit;<\/p>\n
Man in the day or wind at night<\/p>\n
Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy.<\/p>\n
Once in this wine the summer blood<\/p>\n
Knocked in the flesh that decked the vine,<\/p>\n
Once in this bread<\/p>\n
The oat was merry in the wind;<\/p>\n
Man broke the sun, pulled the wind down.<\/p>\n
This flesh you break, this blood you let<\/p>\n
Make desolation in the vein,<\/p>\n
Were oat and grape<\/p>\n
Born of the sensual root and sap;<\/p>\n
My wine you drink, my bread you snap.<\/p>\n
–Dylan Thomas (1914-1953)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This bread I break was once the oat, This wine upon a foreign tree Plunged in its fruit; Man in the day or wind at night Laid the crops low, broke the grape’s joy. Once in this wine the summer…<\/span><\/p>\n