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R. S. Thomas

A Marriage

We met
          under a shower
of bird-notes.
          Fifty years passed,
love’s moment
          in a world in
servitude to time.
          She was young;
I kissed with my eyes
          closed and opened
them on her wrinkles.
          ‘Come,’ said death,
choosing her as his
           partner for
the last dance. And she,
           who in life
had done everything
           with a bird’s grace,
opened her bill now
           for the shedding
of one sigh no
           heavier than a feather.

#WelshWriters

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Piaciuto o affrontato da...
Y. J. Hall
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When he came in, she was there. When she looked at him, he smiled. There were lights in time’s wave breaking on an eternal shore.
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The Small Window

In Wales there are jewels To gather, but with the eye Only. A hill lights up Suddenly; a field trembles With colour and goes out
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The furies are at home in the mirror; it is their address… Even the clearest water, if deep enough can drown. Never think to surprise them.
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We were a people taut for war; the… Were no harder, the thin grass Clothed them more warmly than the… Shirts our small bones. We fought, and were always in retr…
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Like a painting it is set before o… But less brittle, ageless; these c… Are renewed daily with variations Of light and distance that no pain… Achieves or suggests. Then there…
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Evans? Yes, many a time I came down his bare flight Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen With its wood fire, where crickets… Accompaniment to the black kettle’…
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My garden is the wild Sea of the grass. Her garden Shelters between walls. The tide could break in; I should be sorry for this.
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“Listen, now, verse should be as n… As the small tuber that feeds on m… And grows slowly from obtuse soil To the white flower of immortal be… “Natural, hell! What was it Chauc…
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I look out over the timeless sea over the head of one, calendar to time’s passing, who is now open at the last month, her hair wintry… Am I catalyst of her mettle that,
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Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s co… Widow the sky, what can he say Worthy of record, the books all op…
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Nineteen years now Under the same roof Eating our bread, Using the same air: Sighing, if one sighs,
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