Here By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Here I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow. I am like a…

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Thirteen Blackbirds Looking At A Man By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Thirteen Blackbirds Looking At A Man I It is calm. It is as though we lived in a garden that had not yet arrived at…

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A Welsh Testament By Ronald Stuart Thomas

A Welsh Testament All right, I was Welsh. Does it matter? I spoke a tongue that was passed on To me in the place I…

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The Old Language By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Old Language England, what have you done to make the speech My fathers used a stranger to my lips, An offence to the ear,…

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Night And Morning By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Night And Morning One night of tempest I arose and went Along the Menai shore on dreaming bent; The wind was strong, and savage swung…

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Welsh History By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Welsh History We were a people taut for war; the hills Were no harder, the thin grass Clothed them more warmly than the coarse Shirts…

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A Marriage By Ronald Stuart 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…

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The Absence By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Absence It is this great absence that is like a presence, that compels me to address it without hope of a reply. It is…

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Good By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Good The old man comes out on the hill and looks down to recall earlier days in the valley. He sees the stream shine, the…

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The Way Of It By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Way Of It With her fingers she turns paint into flowers, with her body flowers into a remembrance of herself. She is at work…

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A Day In Autumn By Ronald Stuart Thomas

A Day In Autumn It will not always be like this, The air windless, a few last Leaves adding their decoration To the trees’ shoulders,…

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Sorry By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Sorry Dear parents, I forgive you my life, Begotten in a drab town, The intention was good; Passing the street now, I see still the…

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Forest Dwellers By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Forest Dwellers Men who have hardly uncurled from their posture in the womb. Naked. Heads bowed, not in prayer, but in contemplation of the earth…

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Welsh Landscape By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Welsh Landscape To live in Wales is to be conscious At dusk of the spilled blood That went into the making of the wild sky,…

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A Peasant By Ronald Stuart Thomas

A Peasant Iago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed, Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills, Who pens a few sheep in…

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Taliesin By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Taliesin I have been all men known to history, Wondering at the world and at time passing; I have seen evil, and the light blessing…

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Evans By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Evans Evans? Yes, many a time I came down his bare flight Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen With its wood fire, where crickets sang…

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The Woman By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Woman So beautiful- God himself quailed at her approach: the long body curved like the horizon. Why had he made her so? How would…

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A Blackbird Singing By Ronald Stuart Thomas

A Blackbird Singing It seems wrong that out of this bird, Black, bold, a suggestion of dark Places about it, there yet should come Such…

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Ruins By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Ruins And this was a civilization That came to nothing–he spurned with his toe The slave-coloured dust. We breathed it in Thankfully, oxygen to our…

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Death Of A Poet By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Death Of A Poet Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s colour Widow the sky,…

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The Village By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Village Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way between The one tavern and the one shop That leads…

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Praise By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Praise I praise you because you are artist and scientist in one. When I am somewhat fearful of your power, your ability to work miracles…

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Children’s Song By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Children’s Song We live in our own world, A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees,…

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The Dark Well By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Dark Well They see you as they see you, A poor farmer with no name, Ploughing cloudward, sowing the wind With squalls of gulls…

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Poetry For Supper By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Poetry For Supper ‘Listen, now, verse should be as natural As the small tuber that feeds on muck And grows slowly from obtuse soil To…

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Chapel Deacon By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Chapel Deacon Who put that crease in your soul, Davies, ready this fine morning For the staid chapel, where the Book’s frown Sobers the sunlight?…

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The Cat And The Sea By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Cat And The Sea It is a matter of a black cat On a bare cliff top in March Whose eyes anticipate The gorse…

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Pisces By Ronald Stuart Thomas

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,…

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An Old Man By Ronald Stuart Thomas

An Old Man Looking upon this tree with its quaint pretension Of holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws, Or marking the texture of…

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The Dance By Ronald Stuart 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;…

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Ninetieth Birthday By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Ninetieth Birthday You go up the long track That will take a car, but is best walked On slow foot, noting the lichen That writes…

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A Welshman To Any Tourist By Ronald Stuart Thomas

A Welshman To Any Tourist We’ve nothing vast to offer you, no deserts Except the waste of thought Forming from mind erosion; No canyons where…

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The Bright Field By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Bright Field I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and forgotten it….

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On The Farm By Ronald Stuart Thomas

On The Farm There was Dai Puw. He was no good. They put him in the fields to dock swedes, And took the knife from…

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Album By Ronald Stuart Thomas

Album My father is dead. I who am look at him who is not, as once he went looking for me in the woman who…

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The Ancients Of The World By Ronald Stuart Thomas

The Ancients Of The World The salmon lying in the depths of Llyn Llifon Secretly as a thought in a dark mind, Is not so…

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