Time by R. S. Thomas

The pessimist says: Time

goes; the optimist: It is coming.

 

What is this thing, time?

Let Augustine be our spokesman.

 

Its competitor knows its neurosis;

the lover the dragging of its chained feet.

 

Now, we say, looking at the moon

that is the sun in Australia.

 

We keep saving it for the future

and arriving there are insolvent.

 

Young, our hobby was assassinating it.

Old we pray for its recuperation.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Mass for Hard Times (1992)

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mrhearne

Poetry, theatre, literature, films, reviews and various other matters. Primarily Russian and Welsh subjects.

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