Song (‘Wandering, wandering, hoping to find’) by R. S. Thomas

Wandering, wandering, hoping to find

The ring of mushrooms with the wet rind,

Cold to the touch, but bright with dew,

A green asylum from time’s range.

And finding instead the harsh ways

Of the ruinous wind and the clawed rain;

The storm’s hysteria in the bush;

The wild creatures and their pain.

by R. S. Thomas

from The Stones in the Fields (1946)

No Through Road by R. S. Thomas

All in vain. I will cease now

My long absorption with the plough,

With the tame and the wild creatures

and man united with the earth.

I have failed after many seasons

In the mind’s precincts do not apply.

 

But where to turn? Earth endures

After the passing, necessary shame

Of winter, and the old lie

Of green places beckons me still

From the new world, ugly and evil,

That men pry for in truth’s name.

 

by R. S. Thomas

from Song at the Year’s Turning (1955)