R.S. Thomas

1913-2000 / Welsh
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A Blackbird SingingIt seems wrong that out of this bird, / Black, bold, a suggestion of dark / Places about it, there yet should come
16
10.4k
AlbumMy father is dead. / I who am look at him / who is not, as once he
20
1.7k
A MarriageWe met / under a shower / of bird-notes.
22
42.5k
An Old ManLooking upon this tree with its quaint pretension / Of holding the earth, a leveret, in its claws, / Or marking the texture of its living bark,
14
4.9k
A PeasantIago Prytherch his name, though, be it allowed, / Just an ordinary man of the bald Welsh hills, / Who pens a few sheep in a gap of cloud.
22
2.8k
A Welsh TestamentAll right, I was Welsh. Does it matter? / I spoke a tongue that was passed on / To me in the place I happened to be,
47
3.1k
Chapel DeaconWho put that crease in your soul, / Davies, ready this fine morning / For the staid chapel, where the Book's frown
14
3.3k
Children's SongWe live in our own world, / A world that is too small / For you to stoop and enter
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2.9k
Death Of A PoetLaid now on his smooth bed / For the last time, watching dully / Through heavy eyelids the day's colour
18
2.3k
EvansEvans? Yes, many a time / I came down his bare flight / Of stairs into the gaunt kitchen
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2.1k
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