Poem by R.S.Thomas
For any who enjoy some poetry from time to time, here’s one from R.S.Thomas, one of my favourite poets. He was a vicar in the Welsh hills and an active Welsh nationalist, and he is rather bleak in many of his poems. But some times he has an excellent insight into the fragility of life and the need to see things that God has ‘made beautiful in its time.’ This is one such poem. I am looking for one by him called The Musician, an amazing take on the crucifixion. If any one has it out there, please post it with your comment to me.
The Bright Field
by R. S. Thomas
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receeding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
September 8th, 2005 @ 4:38 am
To be born Welsh is to be born privileged, not with a silver spoon in your mouth but with music in your blood and poetry in your soul.
(Anadnabyddus)
September 8th, 2005 @ 9:49 am
I think this may be the Musician:
A memory of Kreisler once:
At some recital in this same city,
The seats all taken, I found myself pushed
On to the stage with a few others,
So near that I could see the toil
Of his face muscles, a pulse like a moth
Fluttering under the fine skin,
And the indelible veins of his smooth brow.
I could see, too, the twitching of the fingers,
Caught temporarily in art’s neurosis,
As we sat there or warmly applauded
This player who so beautifully suffered
For each of us upon his instrument.
So it must have been on Calvary
In the fiercer light of the thorns’ halo:
The men standing by and that one figure,
The hands bleeding, the mind bruised but calm,
Making such music as lives still.
And no one daring to interrupt
Because it was himself that he played
And closer than all of them the God listened.**
September 8th, 2005 @ 11:37 am
Two great poems Trevor. “To live in Wales is to be conscious at dusk of the spilled blood that went to the making of the wild sky,” Welsh Landscape
September 9th, 2005 @ 3:33 pm
Is it just me, or does RS Thomas bear more than a passing resemblance to Father Jack Hackett?
September 10th, 2005 @ 5:53 am
i hoped to be the next great Welsh poet, except i live in Michigan, but Alfred De Hummet (Danish Painter) once said ‘true artists have no country’….so then again i am not Welsh at all, neither am i American. I just confused myself.
Poetry ROCKS!!!!!!!!!
September 10th, 2005 @ 12:21 pm
I spent the last week in Northern Ireland & France both great places but Brownings words came to mind “Oh to be in England now that (Sept.)s there”, particularly Yorshire “God’s own country”
September 10th, 2005 @ 2:25 pm
Oh Ian! Wot a larf! That really made me chuckle. You are very observant. I am now worried though as to what programmes you are watching!!!!! I’ll have ot have a word with Tascha!
Alison
January 16th, 2006 @ 10:36 pm
Thank you for printing out R.S. Thomas’ poem, “The Bright Field” with which the Reverend John Miller ended the Day of Prayer at Westminster Abbey, London, last Saturday, 14th January. I was able to copy this in full as I did not get it down in shorthand quickly enough! So can now send it to friends.