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R. S. Thomas

R. S. Thomas

The Dance

She is young. Have I the right
Even to name her? Child,
It is not love I offer
Your quick limbs, your eyes;
Only the barren homage
Of an old man whom time
Crucifies. Take my hand
A moment in the dance,
Ignoring its sly pressure,
The dry rut of age,
And lead me under the boughs
Of innocence. Let me smell
My youth again in your hair.

#Welsh #XXCentury #Dance

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Pisces

Who said to the trout, You shall die on Good Friday To be food for a man And his pretty lady? It was I, said God,
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Song at the Year’s Turning

Shelley dreamed it. Now the dream… The props crumble; the familiar wa… Are stale with tears trodden under… The heart’s flower withers at the… Bury it then, in history’s sterile…
 1
Seated Peasant, by Paul Cézanne
A Peasant

Iago Prytherch his name, though,… Just an ordinary man of the bald… Who pens a few sheep in a gap of c… Docking mangels, chipping the gree… From the yellow bones with a half-…
 1
The Dark Well

They see you as they see you, A poor farmer with no name, Ploughing cloudward, sowing the wi… With squalls of gulls at the day’s… To me you are Prytherch, the man
 1
The Return

Coming home was to that: The white house in the cool grass Membraned with shadow, the bright… Of stream that was its looking—gla… And smoke growing above the roof
Night and Morning

One night of tempest I arose and… Along the Menai shore on dreaming… The wind was strong, and savage sw… And the waves blustered on Caerna… But on the morrow, when I passed…
Christ Crucified, by Diego Velázquez
The Coming

And God held in his hand A small globe. Look he said. The son looked. Far off, As through water, he saw A scorched land of fierce
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The Absence

It is this great absence that is like a presence, that comp… me to address it without hope of a reply. It is a room I enter from which someone has just
And You?

Davies thought life was long; there was a sameness in the song. Pugh thought it all too brief, the fruit ripe before the leaf turned. How is it with you
Sorry

Dear parents, I forgive you my life, Begotten in a drab town, The intention was good; Passing the street now,
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On the Farm

There was Dai Puw. He was no goo… They put him in the fields to dock… And took the knife from him, when… At late evening with a grin Like the slash of a knife on his f…
No

And one said, This man can sing; Let’s listen to him. But the othe… Dirt on his mind, said, No, let’s Queer him. And the first, being w… Consented. So the Thing came
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Thirteen Blackbirds Look at a Man

It is calm. It is as though we lived in a garden that had not yet arrived at the knowledge of
The Woman

So beautiful—God himself quailed at her approach: the long body cur… like the horizon. Why had he made her so? How would it be, she said, leaning towards him, if instead of
Reflections

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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