There are four verses to put down
For the four people in my life,
Father, mother, wife
And the one child. Let me begin
With her of the immaculate brow
My wife; she loves me. I know how.
My mother gave me the breast’s milk
Generously, but grew mean after,
Envying me my detached laughter.
My father was a passionate man,
Wrecked after leaving the sea
In her love’s shallows. He grieves in me.
What shall I say of my boy,
Tall, fair? He is young yet;
Keep his feet free of the world’s net.
by R. S. Thomas
from Poetry for Supper (1958)