Kneeling by R.S. Thomas

Moments of great calm,

Kneeling before an altar

Of wood in a stone church

In summer, waiting for the God

To speak; the air a staircase

For silence; the sun’s light

Ringing me, as though I acted

A great rôle. And the audiences

Still; all that close throng

Of spirits waiting, as I,

For the message.

Prompt me, God;

But not yet. When I speak,

Though it be you who speak

Through me, something is lost.

The meaning is in the waiting.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Not That He Brought Flowers (1968)

St Julian and the Leper by R. S. Thomas

Though all ran from him, he did not

Run, but awaited

Him with his arms

Out, his ears stopped

To his bell, his alarmed

Crying. He lay down

With him there, sharing his sores’

Stench, the quarantine

Of his soul; contaminating

Himself with a kiss,

With the love that

Our science has disinfected.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Not That He Brought Flowers (1968)


 

12 February is St Julian’s feast day. He is the patron saint of: boatmen, carnival workers, childless people, circus workers, clowns, ferrymen, fiddlers, fiddle players, hospitallers, hotel-keepers, hunters, innkeepers, jugglers, knights, murderers (they have a patron saint?!), pilgrims, shepherds, to obtain lodging while traveling, travelers, wandering musicians, He is also known as Julian the Hospitaller.

Concession by R. S. Thomas

Not that he brought flowers

Except for the eyes’ blue,

Perishable ones, or that his hands,

Famed for kindness were put then

To such usage; but rather that, going

Through flowers later, she yet could feel

These he spared perhaps for my sake.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Not That He Brought Flowers (1968)

The Small Window by R. S. Thomas

In Wales there are jewels

To gather, but with the eye

Only. A hill lights up

Suddenly; a field trembles

With colour and goes out

In its turn; in one day

You can witness the extent

Of the spectrum and grow rich

 

With looking. Have a care;

This wealth is for the few

And chosen. Those who crowd

A small window dirty it

With their breathing, though sublime

and inexhaustable the view.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Not That He Brought Flowers (1968)