A Simple Analysis of "Fern Hill" Written by Dylan Thomas

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The poet recalls those days when he was young and carefree in the farm of his aunt. He remembers the lilting house of Fern Hill. The childhood days were as happy as the green grass. The dingle, starry night-time allowed him to have his own ways by passing a hectic time in the golden period of his life. In childhood he was popular among the wagon-drivers in the apple town, the farm. However, ‘time’ is the real lord and master. With the gracious consent of ‘time’, Dylan had the trees and leaves follow him with daisies and barely down the rivers of greenish light.

In childhood, he was lively and vibrant; he was glorified among the barns beside the joyous yard. He was singing freely as if the farm was his eternal home. He was happy under the sun that was young only once, the heyday of his life. It was ‘time’ which was the real lord and master. Time allowed him to play and be bright. Sometimes it let him play the role of huntsman and herdsman. Then he remembered that as he blew the hunter’s horn, the foxes barked and calves lowed. He enjoyed himself in the holy streams of the fern

As long as the sun shone, the poet kept running from place to place. The hay fields were as high as the house. The sight of the curls of smoke coming out of the chimneys was a pleasant and sweet to the boy as tunes of music. The air was playing, lovely and watery and fire-green as grass. It was beautiful as well as moist. As he went to sleep, he had fantasies. It seemed to him that the owls were carrying away the farm throughout the night; they were blessed; the night jars, one kind of birds, were flying with haystacks and the running horses were flashing in the light of the moon.

In his boyhood when he was pure and innocent, like a lamb, he cared for nothing. Time lifted him to a great world of fantasy. It took him to a lofty height crowded with the swallows in the moonlit night. These days of boyish fantasy are gone forever. He can no longer ride to sleep or imagine that the farm is carried by the owl at night and that it returns with the morning. Now when he has grown up Dylan wakes from his sleep, he finds the farm fled away from the world.

The overall tone of the speaker is that of joy and celebration. Childhood and the farm have been idolized in exaggerated terms. The voice of the poem is clearly full of excitement and rapture though there are subtle under tone of decaying adulthood.

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